


Instant

by NumptyPylon



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: Banter, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, One Shot Collection, Rayllum Birthday Bash 2020, Romance, Worldbuilding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-01
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 23,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25011817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NumptyPylon/pseuds/NumptyPylon
Summary: A look at Callum and Rayla’s relationship at different moments in time, over the course of the series and beyond.One-shots written for Rayllum Birthday Bash July 2020.Includes chapter illustrations.
Relationships: Callum/Rayla (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 534
Kudos: 342





	1. Anniversary: Return to the Oasis

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, welcome to sap central, where I get my Rayllum feelings out while I torture myself and my readers in Down to Earth.
> 
> They’ll be mainly unconnected one-shots, though a few of them are connected. Length between 500-2000 words each. I keep them pretty short because I want to practice writing concisely, since I seem to have lost that ability :D
> 
> There'll be an accompanying polaroid illustration for every chapter, to complement the snapshots/moments in time theme I'm running.
> 
> Most of the chapters are G-rated, just a few are T. I rate chapters individually in the chapter notes, since they're all stand-alone one-shots, you can just skip whichever chapters you want.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the anniversary of their first kiss, Callum and Rayla return to the Oasis for a do-over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you'll enjoy!
> 
> Chapter rating: G

  


1 year after the Battle of the Spire  
The Oasis, The Midnight Desert, Xadia

They arrived, a year to the day. To the day she had first kissed him.

It was as beautiful here as the first time. And better in so many ways.

No Nyx making dirty jokes at their expense.

No Zym getting kidnapped, because he wasn’t with them. He had wanted to come, but Zubeia had stood firm.

No barely contained anguish on Rayla’s face.

Callum walked towards a cluster of the plant life he had been too distracted to explore during their previous visit, while Rayla went to wash her face in the pond. He should really do that too, his face and neck felt sticky from the dry heat, but… curiosity was pulling at him more, and he took out the cube instead, to test a large, delicate-looking flower growing on a wine twisting around one of the palm trees.

The star rune lit up.

That was… unusual. He could not remember that ever lighting up during the day. These flowers were Star primal species? It _was_ clearly the flower affecting it, he judged, as he moved the cube in and out of sensory range.

And it fit, somehow, with what his eyes told him. Those flowers were blue and orange and purple shades like the paintings of space the Moonshadow elves made. They saw darkness differently with their night vision, the dark blue of the starry sky lit up with orange and purple. He would never see it for himself, but there were paintings at the museum in Lux Argenti. The colors of that flower was like the vision of space beyond his sight.

“Is that the Star rune?” Rayla asked, coming up behind him.

“Yes. Odd.” He commented absentmindedly, still studying the flower. He wondered if there were other Star primal species here. He would have to check it out, before they left. “It’s… interesting. I read the legends about the Midnight Desert, remember? That Dark Mages leeched the life from the earth and left only black sand in which nothing could grow, except in the Oasis, the last holdout of the Startouch elves. It’s just a myth, but-”

Rayla kissed the back of his neck, fond and indulgent. “You flew us all the way here. I can set up camp while you explore?”

He turned to look at her properly, bright and dewy, drop of water still glistening on her skin.

There were… things beside the botanicals, here in this Oasis, that merited a second look. Merited a different experience from last time.

He slid his fingers across the smooth skin of her forehead that had been bruised and dirty last time.

Across the small, white scar near her hairline that had been a half-healed cut then.

Across the cheeks where tracks of tears had made streaks in the grime.

Across the delicate brows that had been pulled into a scowl.

Across the smiling lips that had been tight and trembling.

Across the strong shoulders that had flinched away from his touch.

It was a year to the day, and a lot had changed.

* * *

“Are you nervous?” She smiled, as they stood where they had a year ago, on the shore of the pond.

He wasn’t _really._ Not _exactly._ He was _comfortable_ with Rayla. Always had been, really. Barring the day immediately following their last visit here. But it was different this time. It would be better. He had kissed her lots of times.

It was nothing new. And yet it was. An anniversary. Their first.

The anniversary of the day they _met_ was also the anniversary of his father’s death, so they had not celebrated that one.

So this was the first. A new thing. A good thing, though.

“Ah, I’ll be okay. I set the bar low the first time, so…”

Her brows knit a bit, at that. “You didn’t! I could have given you more than two seconds to explain before exploding. I could have listened to the feelings you were conveying and not the words.”

“The words were… quite an epic travesty of a reaction, though.”

She snickered, her hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Yeah, but you stuck the landing…” She smirked lightly. “…after twelve hours of flailing in freefall-” She cut herself off. Looked at him carefully. That had been a sensitive topic for a long time.

It had been a year, though. He could take it. Even joke about it. “Well, I can fly now. You’ll see. No flailing. Just smooth soaring on the wings of love-”

“Smooth?” She giggled. “You know I love you, but promising you’ll be smooth might just be tempting fate. You just know you’re gonna ruin it by burping into my mouth or something-”

“Joke’s on you! I already did that! And you still love me! So there!”

“What?! When?!” She sputtered the words, laughing now from the pit of her stomach, and he felt reverberations where his hand touched her back. It was _really_ contagious.

“Back in the Sky Magic Academy! I put too much fizz in the drinks. It had a kinda burpy effect.”

“How did I not _notice_ that?”

He smiled triumphantly. “You were… distracted.” He had been elated with his bubbly drink success, surplus of fizz aside, and had shoved her up against the bookshelves in the library- Yeah, he could definitely do better than last time.

He turned to look at her, positioning himself to stand opposite of her like he had been.

There was no hood to take down. No tears on her cheeks.

And he was as mentally prepared to kiss Rayla as it was possible for anyone to be. He didn’t think he would ever be _fully_ casual about it, that it wouldn’t send his heart thumping.

But he was definitely not going to be the disastrous mess he had been the last time they had stood in this spot, and Rayla had kissed him.

He had asked for a do-over, and she had agreed to it. To come back here. Without the unresolved tension between them, or Rayla’s grief weighing on her quite so acutely, or any perverted chaperone-pigeons putting a stop to their fun.

A do-over.

When she leaned forward like she had a year ago, he met her halfway.

When she smiled sweetly afterwards, he smiled back.

* * *

Just one blanket.

Just her, laying her head against his chest, plopping herself down on top of him like the second blanket they didn’t need this time. None of the distance between them there had been. The night air was cold, here in the desert, but the moon was almost full, and Rayla was drawing warmth enough for both of them from its rays.

He relaxed into their extremely non-vertical position, because that was another thing they could do now. His muscles loosened. Hers too. Ever more like a blanket. Limbs going slack. The breaths he felt against his neck slowing.

A good blanket.

Warm.

The only one he needed.


	2. Amends: Your Lips Incite Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly following the Battle of The Storm Spire, Callum and Rayla end up in a sleep-deprivation-and-trauma enhanced fight, growing and mutating away from the inciting incident...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this is a little angsty. I figured they had some baggage after the S3 finale. Only happy endings in this fic though, no worries.
> 
> This is a kinda noodle incident in my S4 fanfic [Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776) that I expanded on. That's also why they're at the Storm Spire post S3, since I wrote it before the comic leaks.
> 
> Chapter rating: mild T for language

  


2 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

A controlled Aspiro Frigis made the cloth damp and cool. He did it almost automatically. Unthinking.

His mind was barely putting itself back together after the worst nightmare he had ever had… and she was bleeding and it was like in the dream, but it was _real,_ they were in their room in the Spire-

He handed the cloth to her, still numb. “What- What happened to you?” But he knew as soon as he asked, as soon as he saw the guilty flicker of Rayla’s gaze downwards that meant she was contemplating lying. “The full truth.” He needed to hear it from her.

“Alright. I was spooning you, you thrashed, the back of your head hit me in the face. You should remember that maneuver, for next time we spar.” She smirked lightly, but it was enough to aggravate the tear in her lower lip. She pressed the cloth to her mouth, but not fast enough for him not to notice the fresh blood welling up. He noticed the cracks in her demeanor too. She was _still_ comforting _him._ “Hey, could be worse!” She continued, still flippant even slightly muffled by the cloth. “Your smooth skull was probably a blessing in this case, dashing as you’d look with horns.”

“It isn’t funny.” He pushed himself off the bed, standing on the floor glaring at her. It really, _really_ was not. He had let her comfort him, right after he had hurt her. He had not even noticed. He had _hurt_ her. He swallowed past the taste of bile in his mouth. He could not be near her. He could not ask that of her, no matter how badly he wanted to. Could not ask that of her, kind and self-sacrificing to a fault. Rayla was tough, but that did not matter. You had to be careful and gentle with someone so casual about their own wellbeing. Rayla would not protect herself in this case. He had to do it. Even if it tore him apart.

“Hey love.” She reached for him, but he could not take comfort from her that he did not deserve. “Come here please? Are you okay?”

“AM I OKAY?! I _hurt_ you! You’re bleeding right now! Because of me! How can you ask if _I’m_ okay?!”

“Because you’re crying-” Oh, he was.

* * *

He backed away from her. From the undeserved comfort, from the guilt and the self-loathing rising in his throat when he looked at her. “Don’t _touch_ me! I’m serious!” And he just hurt her again. And angered her. Boyfriend of the year, right here.

“Did you forget what we agreed?! Asshole!” She was almost shouting now. “That it was okay if I hurt sometimes? That that should not keep us from enjoying the good things?”

“That doesn’t include hurt _I_ caused!” That was obvious, and she was twisting things. “You absolutely fucking know that I would never agree to anything that included hurting you! Rayla, I’m trying to keep you from danger, because the gods know what a completely _shit_ job _you_ do when it comes to that!” He snarled it at her. She had always been unreasonable when it came to her own health and safety, and it had always been frustrating, but this was just-

“Danger?! I sincerely hope you don’t mean yourself?! Not without your magic, don’t flatter yourself!” Oh that was _not_ okay!

He knew, he _knew,_ that this was escalating way past the inciting incident, that they both hadn’t slept well for days, that he was still reeling from the worst nightmare he had ever had. That they really ought to… But there was a difference between knowing what you ought to do and actually doing it.

* * *

“Your disregard for yourself is actually insane!” He gestured at her. At the bed she wanted him to come back to.

“And your disregard for us is hurtful! Don’t you get that? It’s hard-won, what we have. It’s not easy. But I still want it, and you’re just-” Oh no, she was crying now too. He hated how his resolve melted with tears from her. He had never been able to watch that. But she was angry too, not just upset, and she pulled away when he reached for her. “You can have your bed to yourself like you want to! I’ll find somewhere else.” She stalked away, a sob torn from her as soon as she had turned away, the cloth falling from her fingers.

He looked at the bloodstained cloth she had left behind. At the empty bed.

* * *

Callum could hear the angry clanking in the kitchen long before he actually got there.

Then an angry voice.

Rayla’s.

“You’ve worked with him every day for weeks, and you think he’d do that?!”

“I am sorry, Rayla.” Ibis. “That was out of line. However, you must realize what this looks like-”

“Yeah I do! Looks like you don’t know him at all! Fuck off, Ibis!”

Amazingly, Ibis actually fucked off. Rayla was left fuming in the kitchen.

“The complete idiot actually thought _you_ did it to me!” She spat, even angrier than before, but not only at him now.

“But I-”

“ _No!_ You didn’t do it! Some dumb nightmare you couldn’t help did! You weren’t even conscious, how can you think so little of me, that you think I would be scared off by that?! By _you?!”_

“I don’t-” She _should._ That was the issue.

She was staring him down, not giving way at all, despite the tremble in her chin.

He looked away, to go to the stove, where a pot of water was ready, just needing a little controlled Fulminis to bring it to boil, curtesy of the Skywing apparatuses at the Spire. That was probably what the angry clanking was, her boiling water to clean up. She shouldn’t have to look at him or deal with him right now. He’d just boil the water for her, what she had been doing when Ibis found her. “I’ll leave you alone. I’ll just-”

“ _Leave me alone?!_ D-does it matter at all what… _I_ want?”

“It matters!” He turned to her, because those last words had come out like a half-sob. Another one came bursting out. He didn’t have time to think, this time, before he put his arms around her.

She clung to him, gasping into his shoulder. “You realize… what you said- hurt a lot more than your dumb skull?” Yeah, he knew.

They sat there, for a while. Not talking. Not-talking was good. Talking was what got them to this horrible place. It would also get them to a better place, hopefully. But a break was good. To feel. And think.

“I’m sorry.” He said, when he found his voice again. “I really am. I don’t want distance. I just- I don’t _ever_ want to hurt you, I can’t stand the thought that I did. I know I- …I overreacted. Those feelings just seemed… really big, in that moment. Overwhelming. It was _all_ I could think about, it took me right back to the last time I saw you bleeding-” After the battle. Her knuckles split from punching a block of ice. It had set him right off then, too.

She sniffed. “It’s been a lot… for both of us. Since the battle. And before.” Yeah, it had started earlier than that, all the awful things, that were still invading his mind and hers, making bad feelings more intense, sleep troubled and-

“I know. But it’s me, too. Not just what’s happened. You know me. You know bad things sometimes seem… bigger than they are, inside my dumb head. And some of these bad things are… pretty big to begin with.”

“I know.”

* * *

“I’m sorry too.” Rayla said, her fingers releasing from their vice grip to stroke the back of his neck. “You’re not an asshole, I shouldn’t have said that. And I shouldn’t have joked about it either, if I stopped to think for two seconds, I would know that you wouldn’t think it was funny at all. I don’t know why I did that.”

“I do. I think. I thought I had to protect you because you wouldn’t protect yourself, but… maybe you were. Protecting yourself. I don’t want to take that away from you, if it’s helping you. Joking about things that aren’t that funny.” He drew back to look at her tearstained and bloodstained face. Wiped at her cheeks. The blood on her lips and chin was drying, not going anywhere until he got that water boiling. He had to swallow the fussy impulse to go do that right then, because she had said it herself, that he had hurt her worse with his words, and they had to deal with _that,_ first. So he kept his hands on her cheeks, stroked across the skin. Leant his forehead against hers. “I know it wasn’t funny to you either.”

“No.” It came out very quiet, like an admission. That meant she had been _afraid,_ because she still felt that instinctive need to hide fear. “I mean… it was the worst I’ve ever seen you, you were so far gone… I was scared-” He had _scared_ her- “Not _of_ you, dummy!” She reached out to take his hands. “Never _of_ you. _For_ you.”

* * *

Her lips came up to meet his, their touch sweet and familiar. Except the coppery taste. Lingering. But he could not let himself get scared off.

He did not want distance, he never had.

He traced the tantalizing curve of her bottom lip very lightly, until he found the place the familiar line broke and faltered. Pressed the lightest kiss against the hurt he caused. The other hurt he had caused tonight was less easily localized. He drew her flush against him, maximizing contact. Area of effect would have to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! The rest of the prompts will be less angsty. I sure hope so, at least.


	3. Travel: Retracing Steps

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla retrace steps they took months prior, revisiting some dark places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's read, commented and kudos'ed! I always get super happy to see it, and I appreciate any feedback, even if it's brief or not in English or negative :D
> 
> Chapter rating: G

6 months after the Battle of the Spire  
Wilderness near the Breach, Katolis

“I could try flying again?” Callum’s hoarse voice barely made it through the snow, even as close as he was.

“You can’t see!” Rayla shouted back, over the roar of the wind. “You also can’t breathe well enough, remember?” Turned out congested airways were quite a detriment to a sky mage. They hadn’t really seen that one coming.

So now they were on foot, through the thickening white blur. And he was flagging, she could tell. His cold fingers’ grip on hers was weaker, his gait slower, dragging. But they couldn’t stop, much as it hurt her to hear him cough, see him stumble against the snowdrifts.

If they could make it to the Breach, the lava would warm them. It would be uncomfortable rock with smelly Sulphur in the air… but it would be warm.

They just had to actually… get there. Through the snow. She had definitely underestimated how long it would take. The past half-a-year of travel being synonymous with soaring over the landscape, wrapped around her favorite person… might just have gotten her a bit spoiled.

Callum fell to his knees next to her.

She pulled him up, gripping him firmly around the back. They couldn’t stop. They would die if they did. His head lolled against hers. Unnaturally warm skin in this cold-

They were not gonna make it to the Breach.

But they _were_ making it.

She tugged his arm over her shoulder, pulling him along. “Hey!” She snapped at him when his head lolled against her shoulder. “No resting! Not yet!”

“Sorry…” His teeth clattered. His voice was hoarse but also… off. Floaty. Like he wasn’t fully there. “Sack of chatty flour. That’s me. And not- e-even that chatty-”

She dragged him under the sagging branches of a large pine. It wouldn’t do in the long run, the wind was still carrying snow to them, but… he had to rest. Just for a bit.

She sank back against the trunk of the pine, pulling him with him, into her chest, putting her arms around him to warm him as best she could. This was such massive, ambler-crap proportions really, pile of shit. And she didn’t even have any idea where they were.

But Callum _did_. He remembered every detail. He could distinguish _trees_ based on one having a twisty branch and another having a funny hole or a third having some weirdly angled trunk.

And he had told her. Chatty flour. She had said that to him, the last time they were in this area. She had dragged him through mud, not snow. His fevered skin had been from Dark Magic, not some regular old bug.

She knew how his memory worked, and how some visual cue she had long forgotten could spark that perfect recall. He had told her where they were, she just had to listen.

The cave then, where they had stayed the first time they had come this way. It would be close. And he remembered this place, and would remember the way to that cave, too.

“Hey. Sweetheart. It’s here, right?” She touched his fevered cheeks, tilting his face up from where it had been pressed against her chest. “We’re in the same place? Where you were chatty flour, and I was mean to you?”

His eyes were glassy and slightly unfocused, but his brows still knitted in protest at what she said. “…n-not mean. Precious. Good. Too g-good to be sacrificed.” He looked away from her now, shame on his face that had not been right, back then, and was even less so, now. “I had to- forgive me-” That tore at her chest because she had to wonder how much was memory, if any of those feelings were still there.

She hugged him close again, not for warmth this time. “Oh love. No. I’m not mad. Just worried.”

“Y-yeah… I kno’. Not… m-mean. Worried.”

* * *

They walked.

Uphill.

Through snow.

It had been mud. Before.

He was even heavier than he had been.

But she knew the way now. They had taken it before, and he had pointed the way, sure of it even as out of it as he was.

When they got to the cave he really was less chatty and more sack of flour. She remembered this place too now. All of it. The mouth of the cave where Ezran had been Elf-Ez. The place of the inception of Elf-Callum. The place she had tried to explain her moon powers… the place where, for the first time, she thought _he_ might feel just a little bit like what she felt, that there might be something, because the way he had looked at her when she struck that dumb pose-

And the place, too, where Callum had almost died. Where Ezran had found out his dad was dead.

Their little Sunfire stove lit up. It warmed their fingers. Warmed water. Warmed them, to a degree. Enough, at least, to survive.

“Hey. Remember?” She asked, as she had settled them as best she could at the back of the cave, a small niche out of the wind, the little stove already warming the air. His eyes were glassy, his cheeks flushed, but he was paying attention. He always was, to her. “Remember over there? Where you came up with Elf-Callum? Because Elf-Ez was mean, so you thought Elf-Callum ought to be a real mate, to even things out? And over there? Where I showed you the ‘ting’?” She stroked through his hair. “P-shaw! Moonshadow Powers!”

“Y-yeah. P-shaw… so beautiful- You were right there, and so beautiful. I saw you. But I also didn’t. Because I’m-”

“Yeah, I know,” she said fondly. “You’re my tragically dense boyfriend.”

“Not then. I was- I didn’t know. But… I did.”

He slumped into her chest, a heavy dead weight. His slightly rattling breath slowed.

She drew close to him, as close as she could. It was not just to keep warm, and not just for _his_ sake. He had been right over there. She remembered the spot. Where he had shaken in her arms, like he was now. Where he had choked on nothing. Where she had said it in her head the first time, but not aloud, that she loved him.

It had to be different this time. It had to be. This was a cold. Not dark magic. He was not dying.

She buried her face in his hair.

She didn’t know how long a time passed. She didn’t know if the amount of snot and tears she got in his hair was any measure.

It was stupid anyway, blubbering like this over her stuffy-nosed-but-definitely-not-dying boyfriend.

Definitely not dying. Because he was looking up at her, bleary-eyed but lucid.

She forced a tiny smile. “Oh. Look. You’re… awake now.”

He smiled. He remembered, because he always did.

He was heavy weight against her chest. Like he had been, then. But he was awake and here, not in his head, not trapped in some nightmare where she couldn't reach him. _Not_ like he had been. His fingers, warm now, came up to brush her wet cheeks.

He was breathing easier. Didn’t shake anymore. It was different than it had been. In more ways than one. She could say it aloud this time, and without hesitation.

“Callum. I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't like this one much, but hey, I've been surprised before. And I did the chapter image before I was infected by the angst demon, so it doesn't fit anymore, haha! Hope you enjoyed anyway :)


	4. Cooking: A Game of Patience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after the encounter with Sol Regem, Callum and Rayla need food but apparently think they need cuddles more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a complete travesty. Not only is it not drabble length by any definition, Callum took his sweet, sweet time getting to the point. But it was fun writing peak-flailing-mess 14-year-old Callum again, I missed that :D 
> 
> It takes place between chapter 17 and 18 of Downtime in Wartime, during the extended frolicking arc at the beginning of season 3. It stands alone though, like all the chapters of this story.
> 
> Chapter rating: G

2 weeks before the Battle of the Spire  
Duleach Gorge, Xadia

Rayla was still asleep when Callum returned, Zym diligently sitting guard next to her, like he had asked the little dragon to do.

The fool’s hope that a little time away from her would let his dumb head and his weird feelings figure themselves out was soundly squashed when he saw her, her cheek squished into the giant leaf beneath her, a soft and carefree look on her face in sleep, despite her injuries and the dragons (plural!) and Dark Magic related events of the past few days.

His heart went all... ba-dump.

A no-doubt doofy smile spread on his face despite his best efforts.

So, yep. Weird feelings definitely still there and no less potent.

Well, it _had_ only been 12 hours since he realized that he was probably… or rather, definitely… very much in love with her. Maybe he just needed time to adjust?

She yawned. How was _that_ cute?

“You’re wet.” Rayla muttered sleepily, stating the obvious, as he took off his sodden jacket.

“Yes? I was fishing.”

“You went to the river?! Alone?!” She sat bolt upright, wincing as the motion clearly wasn’t received well by her battered body. Or her head. Her eyes squeezed shut, her hand going to her bruised forehead. Zym yipped in alarm, putting his head against her other hand, clenching against the surface of the giant leaf.

Callum left his catch to skid to his knees next to her on the yielding leaf, placing a careful hand against her back. “It was okay!” He quickly reassured her. “There’s a nice breeze today, and plenty of static in the air, so I’m good, really.”

“No!” Her eyes opened again, wide and scared. “You’re _not_ good! You can’t just wander off, not even tell me where you’re going-”

“You were asleep!”

“What if I’d woken up without you here? I’d-”

“See, I thought about that, and left you a note!” He pointed at it, still next to her where he had left it. She picked it up.

Oh. He should have probably seen that coming but…

She was going to… _read_ it? In _front_ of him?!

That was an absolutely mortifying notion, like when people read birthday cards he had spent 5 minutes drawing and then 5 hours thinking about those 5 lines of writing inside them. And he hadn’t _had_ 5 hours to write that note, and it might be… weird. He was definitely staring at her sleeping while he wrote it, and that in itself was just… weird. Creepy, possibly. And what he wrote might give away that he was staring at her while she was sleeping, because he was pretty sure it included something along the lines of ‘you looked really tired, so I didn’t want to wake you’, implying that he was staring at her while- And something about hoping she felt better. And a drawing of Zym pulling a silly face and some moon vine flowers, because he had thought she might still be grumpy and in pain when she woke and need cheering up. And oh no, the totality of that note might… be one of those things strictly platonic friends shouldn’t go around doing-

“Callum? What’s wrong?” She was looking a bit flushed, as she finished reading the note. Yeah. Definitely weird. He’d made it weird.

“Nothing!” And that was defensive and suspicious. Could he somehow get that note back from her? No. She was holding it in both hands. Tightly. And now she was putting it in her pocket. Great. Not getting that embarrassing written proof of his weirdness back. He had been so _comfortable_ with her until last night, and now he- Never mind. Staring too long again. “Uh, just. Ignore that. I was bored. So I was drawing. And I used the sketch paper to write the note.” An absolutely terrible lie, because the moon vine he had drawn kind of encircled part of the writing like a pretty border, so how was that supposed to work with his claim of drawing first and writing later? “It’s not like… I drew it _for_ you. But I will! Draw you! I mean… draw _for_ you. If you want.” Wow, an amazing job at making things less weird.

“Still. Callum. It’s… you don’t know it here. You’re in danger here, you’re not-”

“You were in danger in Katolis and still went off on your own! And I’m better equipped to defend myself than you right now!” He said stubbornly. “We agreed! It was a whole thing, yesterday! You trust me. And then you have to trust that I’m not helpless, either. Okay? We needed food. You said so. So I got food. And more water. And I’m safe, and Zym is safe. And we have goop to spare. That’s all the things you said you had to do, yesterday. So you can rest.” Her mouth opened to argue, but she didn’t seem to actually have an argument. “I still need to actually… cook the food. And I didn’t so much gather the food as I gathered… images of potential food. And a fish. Not a potential fish, a real one.” He retrieved his catch to demonstrate. “That’s why I’m wet.”

“Callum. We can’t eat images of potential food.”

“I know! I’m going to get the real thing, after you tell me what’s edible.” He took his sketchbook out. “All of these _look_ edible, and I saw animals eating them. So hopefully, you recognize a few, and I’ll go get the real thing.”

“That’s… _sensible._ ” She really didn’t need to sound quite so surprised. But she sounded relieved too. And fond. She leaned close as she pointed out the edible fruits of the ones he had sketched. Her head hit his shoulder. His heart did a little somersault. She looked just a little bashful, as she continued. “You can stay for a bit? First?”

“Yeah. Of course.” He wasn’t really thinking about the fish, so much. He should be hungrier, they had eaten nothing but some sparse field rations Corvus had given them since… well the day before yesterday, he supposed.

But they were hardly dying of hunger right now, and they could well have both died multiple times over the course of the past couple of days. So it was okay, right? If he followed the urge in his chest to lean his head on hers? It felt like a need too, like a physical pull. He breathed out, relishing in the feeling of her there, alive. And him too, alive. The dread he had felt over the past few days was still too close to the surface.

Seeing those rocks fall on her, seeing her jump off into the trees towards danger, surrounded by hostile humans- It was like… at some point, her luck would run out or her skill wouldn’t be enough. The rock that tore and bruised her forehead could have smashed her skull if it had hit her straight on instead of grazing her. Sol Regem could have burned her to a crisp. Soren could have run her through-

“It’s been… a rough couple of days,” Rayla said quietly. The back of her hand bumped into his. Did she intend to do that? “Are you doing okay?”

“ _Me?_ Y-yeah. _I’m_ not hurt.”

“You were. Two days ago. You were-” She sniffed against his shoulder. If she started crying, he would too, he could feel it. They possibly… _definitely_ needed to eat something soon. It was certainly contributing to feeling this… brittle.

Cooking. Not cuddling. That was what they were supposed to do.

“I’m really okay.” He said. “Hungry though.” Yeah, change the subject to the least horrible thing wrong, and the wrong that could be fixed. “It’s not a poisonous fish, right? I’ve never heard of poisonous fish, but then, I’ve never heard of magic, healing goop either, he said, gesturing at the turquoise substance spread on her injuries.

“No. No poisonous fish that I know of. And that one is fine. And… cleaned?” She sounded surprised. As if he was going to make _her_ clean the fish when she was hurt and exhausted?

“Yes.” He said it a bit defiantly. He was not useless anymore, and not just because he had his magic back. “You wanted to eat the guts?”

“No, just… you know how?”

“Yeah, you showed me.” Back after their fight with the river monster, he had electrocuted so many fish that even Rayla being who she was, she had elected to not do them all herself.

“Once. Two weeks ago.”

“I remembered. I mean, I still messed up a bit, but I remembered how to do it.” And it had also been super gross and he had gagged, but she didn’t need to know that. He could _do_ it, and that was the important part. He didn’t have to like it.

They sat in silence for a bit.

The moment, the _world,_ was so different now from the frantic terror of the past days that he didn’t dare speak, for fear of ruining it.

The slightly misty forest was bathed in golden sunlight, like a soft watercolor painting. And he felt warmth. All around. The sunlight from above. The sunleaf from beneath. Rayla, pressed against his side, her head and soft hair against his shoulder and neck.

Rayla let out a groan of frustration and probably a bit of actual pain, breaking the spell.

“What?” He asked.

“I just thought of what I _should_ have said.” She complained, as if this was not a regular occurrence for her. It was probably just him then, that had accepted that as a regrettable but inevitable part of life. “That you gutting that fish was tempting fate, seeing as everyone knows Xadian fish explode if you don’t remove the gloiter. That’s _never_ happened to me before!” What? Never? She was quick-witted, he knew _that,_ but-

He laughed out loud. “Rayla. That’s _every_ day for me! Thinking of jokes and comebacks _after_ they’ve lost their relevance.”

“That’s what I said! Something is _seriously_ wrong with me,” she moaned, but laughed a bit, too. Her head was heavy against his shoulder though, still.

He grinned fondly, not even slightly insulted. “Yeah, see, you’ve still got it.” He drew away to look at her seriously. “You hit your head. Yesterday. And you’re still tired. Give it time. Sleep. As much as you can.”

“You’re not taking this chance to mess with me?” She smiled wryly at him. “I mean, it’d be okay if you did. I’ve kinda… messed with you. A fair amount.”

“No.” He smiled gently. For once, he really had no desire to do that. Because he was just so happy she was okay, and they were _all_ okay. “I’ll wait till you’re better. More satisfying. You want to lie back down?” He suggested. That whimper hadn’t been all for show, she was just playing it off like it.

“Yeah.” She put her head in his lap, then, and _that_ took his capacity for speech away more efficiently than the wit. He stiffened. She clearly felt that, because she made to get back up. “Sorry, I’ll-”

“No!” He hurriedly said. “I mean. It’s okay. I’m okay with it. I was just surprised.” He forced his body to relax. His mind was harder. Her hair was touching his fingers. He hadn’t actually… tried to do that. His hand was in the same spot as before. Should he move his hand though? Because… he was touching her hair, and he felt really- _intensely_ about that, and-

And he had been staring at her too long. At his hand touching her hair. And now he felt he had to _do_ something with that hand, or it would be weird. He wanted _her_ to be comfortable, and to be able to reach out to him for comfort. And that _was_ what she was doing, even if she wasn’t saying it. It was bothering her, still, being hurt, not contributing, the events of the last few days, the Dark Magic... He could let go, for just a little bit, right? Do what he _wanted_ to do, which was reassure her, and himself.

His hands lightly stroked across her hair, across the unbruised skin of her temple and cheek. He could kiss her there, if he just leant forward a bit-

He stopped himself right there. No! Weird again! That was what _he_ wanted. _She_ needed to rest and eat and not have to endure his unrequited affections.

So _he_ needed to focus.

He looked down at her face. There was still bits of dried blood in her hair, and in one delicate white eyebrow. The gash near her hairline had scabbed over, but the bruising looked worse than yesterday, dark purple marring the pale skin. She looked… well she shouldn’t look this pretty, all that considered.

But she did.

It shouldn’t affect him like this, she had touched him before without his brain shutting down. Without his attention narrowing to a single point of contact, his heartbeat so loud he couldn’t think.

But it did.

She was dozing off again, her breaths slowing. He wasn’t sure what to do with his hands, certainly he couldn’t just keep stroking her hair and face when he felt _this_ way about touching her?

Right. Cooking. That was what he was supposed to do with his hands. He was nearing the stage where he could just rub that fish against his face and that would probably cook it.

He would need to move, to convert those images of potential food to actual food, too. And to find whatever he would need to cook that fish. Wood? He wasn’t sure how to go about that, since they had lost their little pot from the Banther Lodge somewhere in the course of the two dragon confrontations over the past few days.

Cooking sucked.

At least, compared to staying here with her, her unwittingly fulfilling some dream he didn’t know he had, when, in some half-baked pretense of checking the bandage he had tied around her upper arm earlier, he carefully stroked across a stretch of bare skin above the bandage, and she sighed, low and pleased, snuggling her cheek further into his lap.

“How do I cook the fish?” He asked, regretting what had to be done. He couldn’t leave the fish to rot in the sun, there had definitely been a bit of luck involved in him managing to catch it in the first place, although he wasn’t telling _her_ that. “I need to, right? Is it necessary?”

Her eyes opened, slowly focusing on him, as if awakening from a dream, even though she hadn’t been all-the-way sleeping. “Nah, I thought I would stay right here and we could sustain ourselves on raw fish and cuddles?” She grinned up at him. Yeah, if it was up to his irrational, hopeless heart, that would be his choice. He couldn’t say that to her though, that also wasn’t something you just went and said to your strictly platonic friends. “There are some plants that grow here, sun primal species, red leaves with purplish red darker spots near the edges. They can cook the fish. It’ll take a while, they’re not powerful. And be careful to not aggravate them before we _want_ them to heat up, or you’ll burn your fingers.”

So he found the leaves, along with some the edible fruits Rayla had pointed out. He only aggravated one, but it really wasn’t his fault that Rayla was so distracting even when she was sleeping. But his yelp woke her up.

“You got them? The leaves?”

“Yes.” He said, around his fingers stuck in his mouth.

She sighed. “Well, it’s a good thing we have goop to spare.” She pulled his hand to her, inspecting the reddened skin at his fingertips.

The goop was pretty efficient though. Nice and cool. Making the touch of her fingers feel all the warmer in comparison.

He elected to let Rayla, who was less clumsy and certainly _much_ less distracted-by-weird-feelings, carefully wrap his catch in the large leaves, then bash them a bit until they started heating.

And then, they just had to wait. Pretty easy, compared to lighting a fire. Magic was everywhere, in Xadia, even in the boring things, like cooking.

She laid back down, not in his lap this time, but still very close. Her head leant against the side of his hand, her hair spilling over his fingers.

“Wait. How _did_ you even catch that fish.”

He grinned, just a bit triumphant. “Fulminis!”

“And you _only_ killed _this_ fish?”

“Yeah! You were sleeping in this morning, so Zym and I practiced.” He was actually pretty proud of this part. “I tested some things. My magic, it’s less powerful now, since I can’t draw on a whole thunderstorm whenever I feel like it. But it’s also… stronger. Because it’s _my_ magic. I have more control, because there’s more of _me_ in it. I can do a tiny Fulminis, like Zym’s zappy kisses. Or a gentle breeze.” He took a deep breath, and drew Aspiro, and let a very faint wind wash over her, just barely ruffling her hair. “See!” Zym posed proudly next to him.

“Yeah. I saw. I didn’t… _hear._ ”

“Yeah, that’s new too! I don’t actually have to say the words, just think them. Can’t do it with Fulminis, but for Aspiro it works. Because there’s more of _me._ So the words work, even if they stay inside me.”

 _Rayla. You’re precious. Amazing. Strong. Beautiful._ They stayed inside him, those words. Maybe they would still work. Have an effect.

“Callum.” He felt the exhale of his name against his hand, still resting against her head.

“Yes?”

“You’re good. I didn’t mean that. When I said you weren’t.”

“I know.”

“Callum.”

“Yes?”

“That fish is terrible. No saving it. It tastes like mud, regardless how you cook it. Only Runaan could ever salvage it, using some special marinade. I didn’t want to hurt your feelings because it’s your first time fishing, and you did a good job, and we really do need food that isn’t fruit so we’ll have to eat it anyway-”

He laughed. He would eat his boots at this point, without complaint. “It’s okay. I’ll eat your mud-flavored cooking and pretend that’s just how the fish is supposed to taste-”

“ _My_ cooking?!” She protested, full of very unconvincing mock-offense. “You burned _water,_ a few days ago!” Well, he had been distracted! Drawing. Drawing Rayla. Oh. He supposed he had been just a bit dense.

“Didn’t say my cooking was better!” It wasn’t, it was definitely worse. At least Rayla had grown up helping out in the kitchen and didn’t have the giant gaping holes in basic cooking knowledge that he had.

“You did really good _getting_ food, though.”

He snorted, instinctively balking at that. Yeah, he had caught a mud-flavored fish and only burned his fingers once, provider of the year, really-

But she had meant it, he could tell. He was not really used to genuine compliments. It had been genuine too, when she had called him brave and noble and true… and her best friend. He supposed… if _she_ thought he was living up to that… it was good enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the excessive length, don't know what happened there. Hope you enjoyed anyway :)


	5. Nightmares: Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shortly after the Battle of The Spire, Callum relives a past that never happened

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I'm glad people are enjoying this so far :)
> 
> This chapter takes place immediately before chapter 2 of this story, it’s like a two-shot posted in reverse.
> 
> Chapter rating: G? Or possibly very mild T for horror, I’ve no idea how to judge that

2 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

It was dark.

Cold.

He didn’t know where he was, he had been somewhere else, and…

And she had been _dead,_ her corpse before him on the ground, her soft skin cold under his fingers, her lips cold against his.

He had been in mid-air, Rayla slipping from his grasp, down. Then he had landed on the rocky ground below the pinnacle, panic rising in him, visceral and nauseous and completely out of his control.

He didn’t know where he was _now._

And was still there, the physical part of it. The panic. His heart hammering. Nausea in his throat. Cold sweat. The smell of blood, as real as it had been in his dream.

It had been dark, and he had not known where she was, but then the golden glow of the rising sun had warmed his face like it had, that day. Had cast its rays on the ground, like a path leading him to her.

The only path he could take, and he knew where it led, he had taken it before, and he _knew._

But he had followed because it was all he _could_ do, follow the light.

It was dark here.

And Rayla was warm against him.

Warm and _alive,_ cradling him in her arms.

Real.

His own gasping, heaving sobs into her shoulder, real too.

His fingers twisting, clenching the fabric of her nightshirt.

Her fingers sweeping across the sweaty back of his neck, again and again.

It was horrible, but it was real. All of it.

She was talking. Telling him a story.

He wasn’t quite… getting all the words. But it was a story, he could tell from the way she spoke, the feeling of it.

And the world, the real word, the world with her still alive… it was slowly coming back.

He could hear the words now, the story she was telling.

There was an adoraburr that didn’t stick to the others, so it had to go on a journey all on its own. He joined kind of… in the middle of it all, but he got the gist of it.

When the lonely adoraburr found others it stuck to, and the story ended, he was sure where he was, and where he _wasn’t_. He was breathing, feeling. Feeling her. Sure about… that, at least.

She always knew how to take him out of his own head. Out of some version of the past that never happened and into the present. In his head he had been at the pinnacle, in the air, then on the rocks _beneath_ the pinnacle.

The present Rayla was giving him… it was better. Even with his thudding heart and soaked nightshirt sticking to his back, the night air cold on sweaty skin… it was so much better. Her fingers stroking the nape of his neck, her strong arms around him. The smell of her moonberry soap… and of blood. But that was the dream. Not real.

“You’re here,” he said hoarsely. His throat hurt. He must have been screaming or crying or both, then. But it was better now, because she was here.

“I’m here.” She affirmed, into his ear, close and warm and real. “Alive and kicking. Really cool kicking too, because I’ve practiced with Solveig. I’ll show you how alive and kicking I am next time we spar, just you wait.” He smiled a tiny bit, despite everything. It was definitely real because no dream could get Rayla’s particular brand of simultaneously cocky and dorky bravado quite right.

“You won’t kick me in the face, right?” She wouldn’t though. She would never hurt him, like he would never hurt her. They were in each other’s arms, and there, at least, they were both safe.

“Only metaphorically. You’ll be kicked in the face by awesomeness! I’ll do my back-flippy jumping kick, and it’ll be so mind-blowing I won’t even need to touch you, you’ll just swoon from pure amazement!” She said that like it was farfetched. He didn’t think she knew how right she was.

It smelled like blood, still. He could still smell it, like in his dream, like it had been, Rayla’s blood spreading against the rock at the bottom of the Spire. Her eyes, open and wide but without expression, staring into the sky but seeing nothing.

She was warm and alive. Her heartbeat against his chest. Her hands moving through his hair, where his horns would have been if he had been an elf. Her voice in his ear.

He drew back from her, because he had to see her eyes, see the life in them.

Instead he saw the blood he had smelled, on her lips, her chin. Drops of it on her nightshirt and his.

On his fingers, as he reached out with shaking hands.

Real.

“What- What happened to you?” But he knew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story Rayla tells, I headcanon Ethari told her, to comfort her when she was ostracized by other children.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed the first of these prompts that were actually the length I was aiming for :D


	6. Dancing: Rival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla attend a royal ball in Duren, but the situation brings back some unwanted feelings for Callum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! It's so much fun writing and illustrating these, and I'm glad to hear people are enjoying them :)
> 
> Chapter rating: G

8 months after the Battle of the Spire  
Emyoniet Royal Palace, Duren

The queen opened the ball, choosing her partner from the attendees, as per tradition here in Duren.

Aanya had chosen Rayla, prompting, Callum thought, overly dramatic gasps from the crowd. Although it _was_ some epic-level shit-stirring, he had to admit. Aanya was _gutsy_ under that very proper façade.

The whispers from the crowd had stilled when Rayla stepped onto the dancefloor, walking towards the queen like she was gliding on air, chin held high. He could tell she was a bit nervous, but he was pretty sure he was the only one who could.

She looked so beautiful. She always did, of course. But it was more noticeable, somehow, tonight. She was radiant in a white and pale purplish-grey dress that made her look luminous, light fabric that whirled around her as she danced, mimicking her movements, her strength and grace.

Definitely, other people saw it too.

He didn’t know how he felt about that. He was not… jealous. Not _exactly._ He trusted Rayla completely and _wanted_ other people to see her the way he did. Amazing and beautiful. And for her to believe it fully. Believe not just that _he_ thought so, but believe it all the way down to her core.

Still, he was only human. And the young man next to him was watching her _very_ intently. In that ‘imagining her naked’ way. To be fair, it _was_ easier than usual to imagine, with the thin fabric of that dress and the way it bared the graceful, strong lines of her shoulders and back. But still. It didn’t exactly fill him with fluffy, bouncy joy. Like, of course people could look at her, it would be super weird if they didn’t. But it felt like, there was a difference between looking, and _looking._

He put the probably-petty-and-ridiculous feelings aside, when she joined him as the dance ended. It wasn’t hard. She made it very easy, as she sidled up to him, smiling, her cheeks flushed.

“Are you wondering how it feels to have everyone in the room jealous of you, getting to dance with the queen all alone on that shiny floor? Because I know.” She grinned, but it was bravado, at least part of it-

He looked at her, a bit disbelieving. “I think they’re jealous of _me._ ”

“Ha, you wish. Aanya picked me because she probably had the good sense to ask Ez about our respective dancing skills, and-”

“No, they’re jealous I’m _with_ you. At least a few of them.”

She snorted. “You saw the way they stared? Yeah. That’ll be the first and last dance I’ll get tonight, unless you’re volunteering. It was nice of Aanya to try to set a precedent, much as I’m sure she also had other motives, but… yeah. Notice the eager dance partners lined up to ask me?” Rayla turned to look at the empty space next to them. “Oh, Lord Fiddlesticks, so pleased to make your acquaintance. Yes, I agree. The economy. Of course, I would be happy to accept-”

“Rayla. That’s not… it’s not _you._ ” Well, it was at least not _only_ her, not _only_ the fact that she was one of only a few elves in attendance. Another young elven ambassador, who unlike Rayla had come unaccompanied, was certainly not wanting for dance partners, he noted. “You came here with me. With a prince of Katolis. They don’t ask because they do not want to offend. If the person asking you to dance already knows you, like Aanya, or are in other ways obviously not a romantic rival, again, like Aanya, that is different. But a stranger close to your own age? That would be-”

“That’s so weird!” It burst out of her. “It’s a _ball._ Isn’t dancing what it’s _for_ …?”

“Well, yes, but… Dancing doesn’t have those… connotations? In Xadia?”

“No! Everyone dances with everyone! Friends. Neighbors. Parents. People you’re interested in, sure, but not _only_ them.” She giggled. “Otherwise it would be too much of a giveaway, to ask someone to dance. Think of the scandal, if you just kinda… _stated_ that you liked someone.”

“Rayla?” He smiled widely at her. “You like that I just… state things. Right?”

“Yes. Very, very much.”

He swallowed nervousness that had little to do with Rayla and a lot to do with the staring nobles. Rayla would still like him if he stepped on her feet. The hypothetical Lord Fiddlesticks might snicker and tell all his friends. That shouldn’t mean as much to him as it somehow, still did. But he wanted her to have everything she wanted. A dance with her own boyfriend was a small thing to ask for, and she hadn’t asked, but still, he wanted her to have it. “Rayla? I like you. Very much. And I’d like to dance with you. Because I like you.”

He reached out his hand to take hers. Despite himself, it was just slightly clammy.

He would look at his feet. A lot. And mess up. A lot. And there were… _a lot_ of people here.

“Callum. It’s okay if this isn’t… fun. For you.” Her thumb stroked across the back of his hand. “You don’t have to dance with me if you don’t want to.”

“I want to dance with _you!”_ He said firmly. “I don’t care that I mess up, if you don’t.”

“I don’t.” She said, very firmly. “So… it’s these other people? _They_ care if you mess up. And you care that they care?”

He nodded. His breath was catching a bit, in an uncomfortable and familiar way. He wanted to hold her, but this was a packed ballroom, and Opeli had been very clear about the definition of ‘best behavior’ and ‘credit to the royal line’ and things in a similar vein. There had been a diagram of appropriate places for public physical contact. There had been a list of no-no behaviors that had explicitly included ‘overly long hugs’.

And if he did hug her right now, that was definitely playing with the impending danger of an overly long hug.

He wasn’t sure what to do, so he followed Rayla’s lead.

She used the, even by Opeli’s ridiculous standards of best behavior, publicly allowed handholding to tug him outside, to a near-empty balcony. As soon as they were out of sight of the ballroom, she pulled him into her arms. Only another young couple was out here, and they were currently engaged in a significantly more serious breach of Opeli’s definition of ‘best behavior’ than they were.

So it was okay, surely, to pull her close like he ached to do. Feel the warmth of her body, feel the taut muscles moving under the thin silk of her dress as she shifted to put her head on his shoulder. The almost imperceptibly light kiss she pressed against his neck.

He relaxed a bit.

“I don’t _want_ to care.” He said. He thought he needed to specify here. The world was changing, and so was he, and- but he could still remember the person he used to be. The feelings he used to get, in these situations. “And I don’t _really,_ but… it’s just… reminding me of so many times of… not measuring up. Not being the prince I was expected to be. I once stepped on the princess of Del Bar’s feet, and it was damn near a diplomatic incident. It’s taking me back, a bit. To being 13 years old and just reaching the peak of my adolescent awkwardness, trying to not be an embarrassment-”

He jumped back from her, because he heard the door behind him. Best behavior. Much as they had balked at the lecture Opeli gave them, they had listened. Neither of them wanted to make things harder for Ez, he was under plenty of pressure as it was.

The man from before. Looking Rayla up and down, like she was some display piece. Was he going to ask her to dance? Despite it being clear that she was with him? That would be a bit of a faux pas, but the political situation was just possibly so fraught that people were past caring about _this_ level of offense. People were already plenty offended all around.

“Prince Callum. Lady…?” His gaze fairly skimmed over Callum. It was pretty clear where his interest lay, despite technically addressing both of them.

“Rayla. Not lady.”

“Rayla.” He bowed slightly. “I am pleased to meet you. Are you enjoying yourself, here in Duren? It must be different to what you are used to.”

“Yes.” Rayla smiled politely. “And yes. But Queen Aanya has been very hospitable.” The man looked… like he was waiting for something more. Rayla’s gaze flickered down, unsure. Best behavior. She had gotten that speech too, and she cared a lot about not making things harder for Ez, too. “The food is very good. Um… I like the food.”

“You are a lady of fine tastes, I see.” He clapped Callum’s shoulder in a way that somehow managed to be patronizing with just touch. “Present company excluded.” He quipped, laughing. “Ah, I jest.” Very funny. Rayla didn’t think that was funny either, he could tell. And it wasn’t like she wasn’t roasting him on a regular basis herself. But this was different. The intent and the feelings behind it were different. And the man’s attention was firmly back on Rayla now. “Did you like the cheesecakes? My family produces the citrus fruits.”

“They were very good.” Nothing but politeness. But then she turned to smile at Callum, and the polite smile became a familiar, teasing smirk. “ _Zesty._ ”

He burst out laughing, a lot of the tension leaving. She was… involving him. Pulling him into the conversation he was being pushed out of. And excluding that other guy, because he didn’t understand that reference. And she had done it in a way no-one could really find offensive.

She really _was_ amazing.

He looked at her, radiant and strong, and like a shield between him and the machinations of his dumb head. And _he,_ minus the fears belonging to a fidgety 13-year-old that didn’t exist anymore… _he_ wanted to dance with her. So much.

“Rayla. Would you give me the honor of the next dance?” He asked, ignoring Lord whats-his-face.

She took the hand he offered her.

He looked at his feet a lot.

And messed up. A lot.

It didn't matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! This is more representative of the 20/80 angst/fluff ratio I'm aiming for for these prompts, haha! First couple of chapters have been more one extreme or the other.
> 
> If you didn't get or remember the zesty reference you can read about it in [Downtime in Wartime chapter 25](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774909/chapters/56327278) (that story is all standalone one-shot chapters) or the one-shot [Intentional](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23029438)


	7. Written in the Stars: Choices

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stargazing, make-out sessions, philosophical discussions...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who've read, commented and kudos'ed :) I'm really enjoying writing these, and I hope you're enjoying reading them!
> 
> Chapter rating: mild T for mildly suggestive content.

10 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
Edge of the Storm Spire Plains, Xadia

It was a warm night, maybe the last one of the year, with autumn approaching. So they were taking advantage of it.

Callum had even managed to get Rayla floating in the surface looking up at him and the stars above them, almost relaxed. Now though, out of the water, and nestled in his lap, she was _fully_ relaxed,

The lake had been cool, but they were both magical creatures now. The sky arcanum let him ignore wind chill and the Moon arcanum let her draw warmth from the moon’s rays. Altogether, they were pretty comfortable, sprawled out on the shore in their underwear, looking up at the stars.

“You see that constellation?” She asked, indicating with her hand. He aligned his gaze with her pointing finger.

“What’s that one? And don’t tell me Garlath’s… piss-stained loincloth or something! I’m onto you!” He lightly poked her bare stomach. His grin melted into a fond smile and the poking hand flattened to stroke across warm skin instead of prodding. “And into you.”

“Wow, that was cheesy.” She snickered, shaking where she was pressed against him. Then a very familiar, teasing grin spread on her face. “Speaking of cheese: the constellation. It’s Garlath’s funky toe-cheese. See that irregular cluster right there? That’s the-”

“Really? Toe-cheese? That’s what it takes to qualify for getting into that gallery up there?”

“Aren’t you the one saying art is subjective?”

“I clearly don’t know what I’m talking about, you can’t just go quoting _me_ at me.” _It becomes a cycle that never ends-_ She had. Before. And then taken what he had said as an argument for going off to her own likely death. She had said… she was _meant_ to. Like she had no choice, no other path to follow but the one that led to sacrifice.

Her hand came up to touch his cheek. “Hey. You’re not thinking about toe-cheese anymore.”

“No. Something worse. I really don’t know how it happened, but somehow my head found its way from toe-cheese to you going off to die.”

“That _is_ an impressively terrible path right there,” she agreed, looking at him, apprehensive now.

“Well, it’s happened a lot!” That came out without thinking. And was an even worse pathway to take. She was doing better. She was. Still, there was a big gap between what he saw in her, and what she herself, saw. The sacrifice and the secrecy was like second nature, bled into little things too. Beneath the flippancy and the playfulness, there was unbending and dutiful work ethic, determination so strong it skirted the point of sanity, and unthinking sacrifice for others, like it was a given. She had volunteered to cover someone else’s guard duty last week, despite the fact she hadn’t slept properly in days and it was new moon and her third double shift in as many days. She hadn’t told him either, just pushed on. Zym had come and gotten him because he was worried, and he had found her passed out over the mess hall table. And she didn’t fully understand that he was upset when people, _including_ herself, treated her badly. “A baby dragon is more tuned into your well-being than you are!”

“You’re sticking with that path, huh?” She sat up, pushing slightly away from him.

“Yes.” Bad idea, really. There were here to relax, a rare night off. Bright, cloudless sky. Warm night, the late summer heat that would soon pass. It was perfect, and he was really choosing the path that best-case would lead somewhere heavy and depressing and worst case to a fight. “No.” He amended. “Well. Mostly no. Maybe-minus?”

“It’s not a no, then.”

“No. It feels like… the stars sometimes. Enduring. Like… it’ll always be like that. That you’ll always choose the path to sacrifice… always jump off that cliff. That’s what upset me maybe the most, back when you said you were staying at the Storm Spire alone. That it didn’t feel like it was a choice for you, but… something you had to do. Duty. One path for you, leading to sacrifice.”

“I know you don’t like that idea.”

“Rayla, I _hate_ that idea. Even discounting the part of it that involves you sacrificing yourself, I hate the idea that there’s some… set path, some destiny written in the stars. I know it sounds all romantic. But to me, it’s… wrong.” He looked at her, seriously. “Just… I hope it’s a choice for you. Being a Dragonguard. Not a duty.”

“Duty isn’t a bad thing, Callum!”

“But you broke yours. So many times. The day we met. And every day since.”

“I- That hurts. To hear.” She was shrinking in on herself now, the way he hated more than anything. Tiny and defensive.

“I know.” He reached out, trying to reach her where she was retreating to. Stroked her shoulders and arms until the muscles relaxed. Kissed her hands until they loosened enough to intertwine with his. “I don’t ever want to hurt you, but… I don’t want you to hurt yourself either. I want your choices to be yours. Your life to be yours. And for you to value it. See how precious and amazing you are. See that it’s your choices and your heart that makes you amazing… not what you _can_ do, but what you _choose_ to do.”

“I was never really- I’m trying. I am. But it’s hard. No one but you has ever really… I don’t know.” She was looking away now. It was hard, what he was asking of her, he had no illusions it wasn’t. He had said it was just pride, back then, but that was wrong. It _did_ go deeper. “I always thought what I could do was the most important thing about me, and at the same time I… kinda hated it when I was praised for what I could do. I think I understand why, maybe, now.” Yeah, Runaan had a lot to answer for. But he already had, he was dead and Rayla had loved him till the end, and he was not going _there_ , when he had already derailed the romantic mood so thoroughly. “Why it feels… so much better when _you_ say nice things about me.” She was smiling though, a small one, but it was all the way through her, he could feel it in the way her body relaxed back against him. She was coming back to him, choosing him and the things that were hard to look at, over the solitude and denial that were easy and familiar.

“You are so…” -so many things. So very amazing. “-so strong. To look at the things that hurt, like you are. To make the selfless and hard choices like you are. You are so strong and I love you so, _so_ much.”

“But you don’t think we were meant to be?” She teased, drawing closer. Very close.

“No.” He smiled, wide and tender, letting her know he didn’t mean that the way it could easily be read. “I think we fell in love, and we both made the choice to be together. And the choice to _stay_ together. When it’s hard. It makes me so proud to know that you _chose_ me. And I want you to know that I chose you, too. Because you’re-” _…the most amazing person I’ve ever met._ But he didn’t get to say it, because her lips were in the way.

It was a slow kiss, at first at least. Sure. Unhurried. They didn’t need a set path to be sure about this, about each other.

I was a long kiss too. Enduring.

Not at all slow, towards the end. But their choice.

When they parted he was flat on his back with her on top of him, and his breath heavy pants, his head and body overwhelmed with Rayla-induced good feelings. But they parted, because they had an idea where that path led and had decided together to not take it just yet.

She settled her head against his bare chest as they caught their breath, careful not to poke him with her horns.

Her breath was quick and hard. Her hand was twitching where it rested against his ribcage. She grinned up at him, just a bit regretful. “Callum, please say something so boring and dorky it kills the mood. I need it right now.”

“Well…” Wow, a tall order, looking at her right now, her white hair spread over his chest, still-flushed cheeks and ears, her pink lips slightly swollen from their fevered kisses. Yeah, he definitely had to not be looking at her, to manage that. He looked up at the starry sky instead. “I read about the Startouch elves yesterday…”

“Yep, that’s it.” She smirked wryly, but fondly traced a finger down his face, really not helping the cause of killing the mood. “I knew you could do it.” She patted his chest. “Go on.”

“Well, they thought that our destinies were written in the stars. Like a path we are meant to follow. And Star Magic can supposedly track those paths, see into the future.”

“I thought you were arguing _against_ that viewpoint.”

“I am. Star magic doesn’t _exist_ , Rayla. There’s nothing concrete anywhere. Just legends.” His hand found hers. “What if that constellation… was actually a picture of toe-cheese? I mean, who knows, anyway? They could be. We could look up-” He aligned their gazes, so they looked at the same stars. “-and not see some set path, but… open sky. It can be anything, the future. We get to choose, and I choose you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear the ending is not a reference to the Pikallum pokemon edit I made :D
> 
> I went a bit contrary on this one, because I kinda see the idea of predestined soulmates to be antithetical to Callum’s philosophy in the show, that destiny is a book you write yourself.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, I was super busy the last few days, so it's a bit rushed, sorry for any errors.


	8. Callum's Birthday: Whole Pie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla finds her drunk birthday boy behind a tapestry as he's reaching that 'moment of sad clarity'...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank to everyone who's been reading and responding and kudos'ing! I'm having a lot of fun writing and illustrating these, and it's awesome to see you're enjoying them! 
> 
> Chapter rating: T for underage drinking and mild innuendo

1 year and 1 month after the Battle of the Spire  
Katol Keep, Katolis

Callum was exactly where Opeli had said he was. Behind the tapestry. Waiting for her. Because it obviously made sense that she would just happen to stumble upon him in some deserted stretch of hallway. He was half-asleep, leaning against the wall.

Rayla poked his arm, rousing him into full consciousness. “Hey, love. What’s a guy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Waiting. For a girl like you.” Wow, that was impressively smooth, considering how drunk he had been, last she saw him. Maybe he had sobered up a bit, sitting here- “Wait. No. For you. Yooou! But then- a pigeon came. Instead of you. And… said…” …Never mind.

His heavy head hit her shoulder. His arms came up around her neck. “You want to go to bed?”

“No. Jus’ resting. A bit.”

She leant her head on top of his. “We can do that.” If he fell all the way asleep she could probably get him upstairs, even heavy dead weight as he was definitely gonna be-

“Rayla?” He looked worried now. “Am I… drunk? I think I might be… a lil’ bit drunk. Only a little. Like… jellytart-drunk. If the whole way drunk is a pie. Then I’m a little one. A little pie-let. Tart-let? Wait-”

“Callum. You’re drunk. Not just jellytart-drunk either.” And on the first day of his life it was legal, too. 

“So where am I? On the scale? If aaaall the way drunk is a whole-ass pumpkin pie?”

“You’re… three sheets to the wind and one harebrained impulse from launching yourself off the balcony, is the level of drunk you are.”

“Wait. That’s not a pie.”

“Yeah, well, you broke your own pastry scale when you wanted to go flying, earlier.”

“But you like the wings,” he whined.

“I like you more. Alive and without broken bones.”

“Awwww! Really?” He snuggled his nose into her neck, planting little tickly kisses. “And you like the wings a _lot!_ ” He drew back to look at her, very serious. “I like you more than the wings too. I wouldn’t have them without you, anyway. And you’d be… all the way broken- without them-” He sniffled into her shoulder.

Oh no. No sad, drunk Callum. Messy, oversharing, death-defying, off-key singing, terrible-metaphor-creating, drunk Callum was quite enough to handle. “But I’m not!” She said hurriedly. “I’m fine! Not even a little broken!”

“But you are. And so am I. And Ez. And Soren. Everyone’s a little broken.” He wasn’t sniffling anymore, but… resigned. And that was somehow both worse than the sniffling and also hard to dispute without directly lying. And it didn’t feel right to lie to him, when he was this vulnerable.

“We’re strong though.” That was not a lie. She was sure about that, at least. “

“I know. But you’re soft inside. I don’t want your soft insides on the floor. They’re sweet and delicious. And they should be loved and cared for. Not spilled on the floor because the crust is broken.”

“I think those pastry metaphors are getting away from you a little bit.” She stroked across his bare arm, still around her.

“Mmmm.” He gave her neck a tentative little lick where he was pressed against her. “Delicious. Like I said.”

“But that’s not my insides, now, is it? So you see, your metaphor is flawed, there.”

He shook his head against her neck. “Nnhh nnhh. Metaphor’s good.”

“Fine.” She smirked wryly at him. “Then you get to be my fluffy little birthday tea biscuit, gone all soft because someone left it alone for too long.” Not that there was any risk of that happening in a building containing Ezran. “Happy now?”

“Yeah. Because I’m yours. Thas’ the important bit. Of that. Yours. Doesn’t matter what else you say ‘cause you mean… I’m yours. Like ‘dummy’. It’s not mean because it doesn’t mean…” He smiled at her, wide and red-cheeked but just a bit triumphant. “It may’s well mean ‘love of my life’, way you say it…”

Wouldn’t be right to lie when he was this vulnerable, she had already settled on that. So she kissed the top of his fluffy, beloved head and didn’t say a single one of the comebacks that came to mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you want more birthday stuff, the [prologue of Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776) consists of drabbles of 12 main character birthdays happening in the S3-S4 timeskip and can be read as a standalone chapter.
> 
> And the rest of Callum's drunk birthday I posted as a one-shot, [Sweet 16](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24753340/chapters/59846782)


	9. Domesticity: Burdens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla had a long day at work, and Callum braids her hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been following this, it's great to hear you're enjoying these!
> 
> Chapter rating: G

  


4 months after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

Rayla sank down on the bed, pulling the Dragonguard armor off, dumping it unceremoniously on the floor. Her boots followed. Her bracers. Her hairtie.

She needed, somehow, to get rid of as much weight as she could.

“Long day?” Callum asked, turning away from his book to smile at her.

“Yeah.” Bad day, too. The newest Dragonguard had not been overly pleased with her, with the (in his words) too-informal way she had addressed the guards, her human boyfriend’s presence at the Spire, her _background_ (again, his words) making her unsuitable as Captain, or anything she had said or done or _was,_ really.

Some of the things he had said would definitely upset Callum more than her, and it was sweet, the way he had such a very low tolerance for people upsetting or insulting her, but… she didn’t want to talk about it. She had just wanted to get to this room, _their_ room, close the door, shut out the world on the other side of it. And cuddle until she was less grumpy.

Callum always seemed to hear the things she wasn’t saying, though.

She felt him sitting down, behind her on the bed. He brushed the hair away from her ears, his fingers carded through her hair, across her scalp, around the base of her horns. She sighed, her shoulders relaxing a bit. It was sensitive, what he was doing, both physical and cultural. But she trusted him. He was family, he and Ez. The only ones left not cut off from her.

She wanted to ask him to stay. Continue what he was doing. But she was Moonshadow. Still. “Will you braid my hair?” She asked, instead. It amounted to the same thing, really.

He bent to kiss the top of her head. It was so light she barely felt it, but… she _felt_ it. Like warmth inside her, like some invisible force smoothing out the jagged edges the day had created.

“Sure.” He fingers brushed across her ear. “I’m a bit… rusty, though.”

“But you’ve done it before?

“Yeah, but it was almost ten years ago.”

“Do I want to know who’s hair?” Rayla asked. She knew he had liked Claudia for ages, and Claudia had that stupidly long hair-

“Amaya’s.”

“Really?!”

“Yeah. My mom taught me, when I was little.” His voice sounded far away now, remembering. “She had really long hair, and I’d braid it for her, and she’d sing to me.”

“But it was Amaya, the last time? And not your mum?”

“Yeah. Amaya stayed at the castle for a while, after my mom died. She was injured on the mission into Xadia. Her shoulder gave her trouble for a while, I remember, so I’d braid her hair for her because she always resented the idea of having a lady’s maid, or getting help in any way, really.” His voice was fond as he kissed a small spot beneath her ear. She supposed that attitude did sound just slightly familiar. “It was easier with me because I was family, and also, five years old.” And because he was him. That too.

He was barely tugging at the strands, as gentle as Ethari was. Less practiced, but he was good with his hands, patient and diligent, and he was already getting better on the second braid he did.

“But she cut it when she left for the Breach,” he continued. He sounded sad now. “I wanted to go with her, back then. I remember. The castle didn’t feel like home without my mom. My dad was grieving, recently king and recently a single father to a 1-year-old, always busy or tired or both.”

“And a 5-year-old,” Rayla said, a little bit indignant, on his behalf. “You were his, too.”

His hands stilled at the top of her scalp. Then moved, slowly. “It didn’t feel like that, then. _Now,_ I see he was doing his best, just grieving and overwhelmed, lone ruler and lone parent in one sweep, but then? It felt like I was in the way. A burden.” That was so very wrong, and she would have to find a way to say that to him, because it was _so_ very wrong, if any of those feelings were still inside him.

But for now, she should listen, she thought. “You felt like that for a long time.” He didn’t answer. “You realize I can’t see if you’re nodding from this angle,” she said, sighing indulgently.

“Sorry. Yes. I did. Less, recently.” Less. Not… _not._ “But anyway, I wanted to go with Amaya, back then. Live with her on the army base. I lived on army bases with my mom and Amaya until my mom met Harrow. I liked it. People were nice, and would play with me and tell me fun stories, and not care if my hair looked nice.” He stroked across _her_ hair, no pretense of function anymore. She stroked across his ankle, where it pressed against her thigh. “But she couldn’t bring me, of course. So she left, and I stayed.”

“ _She_ could have stayed though.” Rayla said. There _had_ been another choice. “For you. And Ez.”

“She was grieving too. I think she needed to leave. She came back though. And she was different. More… there. More like she had been, before my mom died. Her hair stayed short though. So no more braiding.”

“Until now.”

“Until now,” he agreed. She could hear from his voice that he was smiling too. He just… opened up. Told her how he had felt like, even if it had made him vulnerable. It was still hard for her, to do the same, but it was easier with him.

“Callum. You know… the way I grew up? Moonshadow, we… don’t really just… _state_ things, the way they are. Like… that you like someone, or are upset or you had a rough day and want comfort. So I’d ask Ethari to braid my hair, instead. Or Runaan to spar with me, if it had been the frustrating kind of rough day.”

“Yeah, I kinda… got that, a bit.” He did. She knew. But still. He deserved better than illusions.

“Callum?” She reached up behind her own head to find his hand. Squeezed. “I like you. A lot. And I'm a bit upset because I had a rough day. Would you be okay with just… cuddling and not talking about it until I’m less grumpy? Because you’re like… the opposite of a burden, to me. You make the heavy things so much lighter.”

His arms wrapping around her from behind was all the answer she needed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it was kinda lowkey depressing. Onedrive ate today's prompt by corrupting the file and then I had to recreate it while grumpy and frustrated, and it turned out sadder than the first iteration. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed anyway :)


	10. In-laws: Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla return to the Silvergrove for the first time since the Battle of the Spire, to attend the funeral of Lain and Tiadrin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who's been following this, it makes me really happy to see people are enjoying my takes on these prompts. They were a lot of fun to do :)
> 
> Sorry about the repost, AO3 has been bugging out on me lately, and the first time I posted it didn't display properly.
> 
> Chapter rating: G

3 months after the Battle of the Spire  
The Silvergrove, Xadia

Letters from three monarchs had undone her banishment, but really, that did not mean she was _welcome._ It just meant the Silvergrove council had caved to political pressure from Lux Aurea and the Dragon Sovereignty. Ezran’s letter was unlikely to have made an impact on them, despite being so sweet and passionate that it had made _her_ cry.

Rayla didn’t _belong._ Not anymore. She didn’t know if she ever had.

But Runaan had belonged here. Her parents too. And Callum had convinced her she should go. Had come with her. Had performed the dance with her to enter the Silvergrove, as clumsy as the first time. But even the nostalgia, thinking back to the first time, the sweet, unsure, overwhelming feelings, had not made the experience anything but bitter.

She was un-banished and it was her right to go, her right to bring a guest, even a human.

And it was everyone else’s right to think what they pleased about that. To let her know those thoughts.

She had missed Runaan’s rites, she had been banished then, had not even known he was dead.

The rites were said for Lain and Tiadrin.

That was not the only things said that day of them, or of her.

* * *

“What those people were saying… it isn’t true and isn’t _you._ ” Callum’s hand found hers. There had been whispers, meant to be heard by her. The Moonshadow way of verbal confrontation. It had never suited her at all. It hadn’t suited Callum either. He had controlled himself because it was her parents’ funeral rites, but she could feel his anger then, and even now, shielded from the rest of the village, as they were in Ethari’s kitchen (not hers anymore) it was still there.

At least the whispers had stilled during the actual rites. Even when Rayla stepped up to perform her dance that, as their only child was her right and her duty, the hostility had been a silent, passive, insidious thing.

“I’m sorry Ethari,” she said.

“Whatever for?” Ethari asked. She could feel the comforting familiar weight of his hand on hers, but she couldn’t look at him. “You conducted yourself with all the grace anyone could expect. Even-” -even Runaan would have been pleased, she thought. A tiny thing, when he would not have been pleased with anything else she had done. Much bigger things. But Runaan was dead. Ethari was still here to hurt. And she was about to hurt him, along with herself, but she couldn’t _be_ here. She had loved her home, but it was different now, all of it.

“No, I’m-” She cut off, choked. “I’m sorry I won’t be back. Not for a long time, at least. I want to see _you,_ but…” - _but no-one else wants me here._ She had lived her whole life here, and the most charitable reception she had felt from anyone today, was from those that treated her like she was still a ghost.

“Rayla, people will come aro-” Ethari started. But that was an illusion.

“No.” She said simply. She managed to keep her voice steady. Good. “I’m retiring. We can talk about it tomorrow, okay? I’m tired.”

She went up to her old room upstairs. She was expecting _some_ change. At the very least that Ethari would have used the space for storage, he tended to accumulate materials and knickknacks he had a plan to make something from in the indeterminate future. He had occasionally used her room as storage _while_ she was still living in it, because Runaan was not fond of clutter.

But it was as she had left it. Empty. Tidy. All the signs of personhood stashed away, Moonshadow style.

She took out a box with those signs, from where it was stashed under the bed. A knitted adoraburr her mum had made for her when she was three years old, because she had bemoaned how the adoraburrs were too small to hug and she wasn’t allowed to have them in the house. So her mum had made her Mrs. Snuggaburr, who was always happy to be hugged and was allowed to live in her room.

Even before they died, she had not seen her parents in years. She didn’t know how they thought of her. If they _had_ thought of her. At the end. If she was still a daughter to them, or just part of a life they left behind.

She had _once_ mattered to them, at least. Her mum had cared once, that she missed her adoraburr friends when she went to sleep.

She hugged the soft, knitted proof of that to her chest, as she sat in the windowsill, looking out over the Silvergrove.

There were footsteps behind her. Callum. His clumsy steps were as familiar to her as his arms coming up to embrace her from behind. As his lips against the back of her neck.

Right. There were people who cared, _now._

Who cared what her parents had thought of her? They were gone. They _had_ been gone, for a long time, even before they died.

She did. She cared.

“Hey.” Callum said, his hands stroking across the tense muscles of her arms. “Are you okay? I mean… I realize that’s a stupid question, you really don’t have to answer that… I mean, that’s not really a question at all. Especially when I ask _you._ Because you always say yes, and the answer is always no. So… it’s more like, what I mean is- Well. I care that you’re not okay. And I’m here. I could just say _that,_ right? Instead of some question that isn’t really-”

“Callum. You really don’t need to…” What? Try to fix it? He couldn’t. Try to comfort her? He could. Was. Just being there, he was.

“Sorry. I think I talk too much when I don’t know what to say.”

“You definitely do. But it’s okay. I’d rather have anything but silence right now.”

“You could tell me about them? You never did, much.”

“I don’t remember. Much.”

“But a bit?” His hand came up to cover hers, touching the soft surface of Mrs. Snuggaburr. “Like this? They gave it to you?”

“Yeah. My mum made it. She knitted. Angrily.” She giggled a bit, but tears came out along with it, because she didn’t even know that about her. Her mum had knitted after she had gone to bed, she had been so little the last time she had lived with them. So much of what she knew of them, she knew from stories Runaan and Ethari had told her. They weren’t even memories.

Callum climbed into the windowsill behind her, to hug her fully.

“I’d like to hear about them,” he said. “They’re my in-laws, after all.”

“Oh, you should be happy you’re not facing my mum, and just Ethari. She might have made a scarier in-law than Runaan. Knitting was not the only thing that made her angry…”

They were not her memories, but Ethari’s. Secondhand memories.

Thirdhand, by the time they got to Callum.

“-my mum, Tiadrin, she got angry at lots of things. Insufficient sugar levels in her Moonberry Surprise, the market being out of her favorite mushrooms, my dad’s dumb idea face, which was supposedly the stuff of legends, Runaan’s lack of appreciation for her jokes, her mother… just in general, I think…”

She supposed that was how he would get to know his in-laws. It wasn’t good enough, but it was the best she could give him. It would have to be enough even if it wasn’t.

It wasn’t though. It wasn’t enough.

But Ethari, joining them shortly after, made it enough. Ethari's stories were much better because his memories were real, her parents had been real to him. They felt more real when he was talking about them than when she, herself, tried to remember.

And Ethari was still here, himself. He was not just a conduit to the dead, he was Callum’s father-in-law even if he wasn’t, technically. Her dad, even if he wasn’t technically. Even if she was officially moving away from this place from her childhood home, he was still here. Here to know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I swear these get less depressing now!
> 
> Sorry this was kinda messy, I finished it today, hungover and on three hours of sleep, not really ideal conditions, lol, but I wanted to get it out.


	11. AU: Middle School Woes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum, Rayla and Ezran are all called to the principal's office to explain themselves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here goes AU! Never written any kind of AU before, my stuff is super canon compliant, so this was fun! I went with 90s middle school AU, since that's the natural habitat of Callum's floofy hair :)
> 
> Chapter rating: G

September 2nd, 1998  
Katolis Public School, Vancouver BC

Opeli took in the unusual group of troublemakers currently seated across from her desk.

Callum Prince, decent grades, but underachiever in comparison to his actual potential. Tended to get distracted, notations only for drawing during class. Anxious and a bully-magnet. Opeli knew him quite well, he had been up here pretty frequently, or at least he used to, getting upset during class presentations or being pushed around by older boys. He was a good kid, certainly he had never been here for anything like _this._

Ezran Prince, Callum’s younger brother, his record empty since it was his first day here. His preschool file was exemplary, barring a tendency to wander off while on field trips.

Rayla Ghealach. _Her_ file was… interesting. Conscientious and hard working. Also mouthed off to teachers and tended to descend buildings via drainpipes rather than stairs. Adopted, or rather… since that was not legal, her guardians being both men, under temporary guardianship that was apparently not so temporary. Biological parents on assignment in the middle east. No wonder she acted out. Recently, a lot of citations for reenacting scenes from various action movies on school property, which there was no specific rule against, but Opeli might have to instate one. She usually had the sense to keep the stunts _ground level_ but today was… a day.

First things first though. The younger child. The lesser offense. Certainly the simplest to deal with, because his dad was sensible and she would let _him_ deal with it.

“Ezran.” Opeli turned to the small boy, half-huddled into his brother’s side. “Please return to class. It is your first day of school, it is important for you to meet your new classmates.”

“ _I’m_ not being punished? I _knew_ I wasn’t supposed to bring Zym.” The boy looked stubbornly up at her. “It was in the letter you sent. My dad read it to me. I knew and I did it anyway.” Honesty. Conscience. Ever more reason to not punish a 6-year-old for a somewhat minor infraction of the school rules.

“You brought your pet to school. That is a minor offense, which I will ignore, as it is your first. _Minor_ , however, does not describe what your brother and friend got up to, so they will stay here, for a longer chat.” Opeli said, giving both of them a firm gaze.

The two older children both returned remarkably unrepentant stares. She had expected that from Rayla, but Callum? That boy apologized for things he had not done or had anything to do with.

“I would like to hear the story from you two. But first, are either of you hurt? Do you need to go to the nurse’s office before we have a talk? We _will_ still have a talk, mind, provided neither of you are diagnosed as dying.” She looked at them, gauging, as both children shook their heads.

Callum took a deep breath. He tended to be anxious, but he didn’t look it today. “Kasef noticed that Ezran brought Zym to school, when he wasn’t supposed to, and then he took Zym from him, and said he couldn’t tell the teacher because Zym wasn’t supposed to _be_ at school and he would be expelled if he was discovered. And Ez was crying, and then they put Zym in a bucket from the sandpit and hoisted him up the flagpole. And then I tried to get him down and they pushed me and cut the flag line. And then Rayla climbed up the flagpole to get Zym, because the line had snagged, so it was just whipping around the pole in the wind? So she _had_ to go up there, Zym would have _died!_ But then some of the other kids started cheering for her, and Kasef didn’t like that at _all,_ so him and his friends started… s-shaking the pole,” There was more of the anxiousness she had expected, and she sympathized, she did. It must have been very scary to see. There was just no excusing _these_ actions. “But I used my physics project to stop them so Rayla could escape. That’s it, basically.” Yes. Putting it very mildly, maybe. The overly excited 8-year-old she had gotten an account from earlier had described it more like ‘made an awesome lightning explosion like, pew-pew! Hadoken!’. It was, however, technically the truth, far as she could tell.

“Yes. Barring the defense of Rayla’s actions, that does conform to other stories I have heard." She turned to the thus far unually quiet girl across from her. "Rayla. Whatever your reasons, I’m sure you can understand that I cannot let what you did go unpunished, or you will look like some sort of hero.”

“She _is!_ What’s wrong with things looking like what they _are?”_ Callum said. That meek kid was almost off the chair now. What had gotten into him today?

Opeli elected to ignore the 11-year-old lightning wizard’s outburst and kept addressing the 12-year-old Jackie Chan reenactor. “Others may try to do what you did, and probably a lot less successfully.” Callum looked slightly- but certainly nothing close to _fully_ mollified, at that. “I was told you jumped from the flagpole to the roof, then rappelled down the drainpipe?”

“Yeah? Easiest way to get down?” Rayla shrugged.

“Of the students in this school, do you think anyone but you could have made that jump?”

“They could if they practiced! Like I do!”

Opeli sighed. “But do you think they _will_ practice? Or do you think there are… elements… in this school who would be tempted to try to do what you did _without_ the years of practice you have put in, if it was in any way seen as… _cool._ ” Soren would absolutely do that, and probably break his back. She had some serious concerns that it would take more than punishment to make that maneuver look not-cool, but she could at least _try_. Fighting the inevitable was in the job description. So she turned to Callum, next. “And you-”

“Callum didn’t do anything!” Rayla protested, indignant.

“He electrocuted three children, Rayla.”

“He got an A in physics!” Rayla argued, seeming to think this was a reasonable escuse. “I’m sure it wasn’t even deadly or anything! Callum knows all about the voltages and stuff, you can ask Mr. Ibis!” Yes, the amperage had been at a safe level, she had already consulted Ibis. She was expecting that argument from Callum himself, but the boy was just glaring, clearly seething, but not defending himself with anything like the passion he had Rayla.

“That does not excuse it-”

“They could have killed her!” Callum burst out. Oh there went the anger. He did have a temper, she knew, and he was almost shouting now, his fists balled, his eyes shining. “You _heard_ what happened, what they did! You think I should have stood by?! You’re saying that instead of talking to some mildly-electrocuted bullies’ parents, you’d rather explain to Runaan why his kid is-” Callum cut off, wiping his eyes angrily.

No. She would _not_ have preferred that.

But sometimes, her job entailed punishing crying children who were right to have done what they did.

* * *

They were left on a bench to wait for Ethari, the only parent free to pick them up in the middle of the day.

Callum glanced nervously sideways at Rayla next to him. Runaan was way more strict than Harrow. She was definitely in trouble. And she was hurt too, she had lied to Opeli about that, he could tell when she got down from the building and even now she was holding her left wrist, curled around herself like she did when she was hiding something.

It was all messed up-

“I’m sorry about your science fair project.” Rayla said sadly, looking down into her lap. “You’d have won, too.”

“I don’t know-” Callum started, but Rayla cut him off.

“You would. And now you won’t. And you’re in trouble.” Rayla looked upset, as if _that_ was the most pertinent issue on his mind right now. He was really very well past caring about his physics project or being suspended from school.

He shrugged, a bit sheepish. “Ah, it was worth it.” Obviously.

“What?!” Her head snapped up to look at him. She sounded… actually taken aback.

She… _didn’t_ know she was obviously more important? To him _and_ in general? That made the anger come back for some reason. An hour ago she had dangled from that pole only saved by the cord she had wrapped around her wrist and it had tightened and she had cried out in pain and… and- and the feelings of nauseous dread he had felt were still too close and intense and making indignation into actual anger. “What do you mean, ‘what’?” Callum snapped. “You don’t think _you_ getting smashed is more important to me than some glowy ball I built getting smashed?”

“But you were really proud of it.” She said, looking at him, still upset. “It made you feel good about yourself, I could tell.” He wanted to tell her that she did too, but the words got kinda… stuck in his throat. And she looked angry now, too. “And it’s not fair! I started it! It was my dumb idea to climb that flagpole.” But she had done it for Ez. _His_ brother. And his brother’s bearded dragon baby. Her anger… and _upset…_ made his own go away, somehow.

“Rayla?” He said, hesitant. She still looked angry. He knew she wasn’t angry at _him_ , but- “I have something for you. It’s probably a bit melted, because I couldn’t give it to you with Ez here, he would have eaten it, and anyway, it’s probably not hygienic at all, now that I think about it. Sorry. It’s a dumb idea. I’ll go to the nurse’s office and get you an actual- Uh. It’s closed now.”

And she was still cradling her left hand in her lap, although she wasn’t complaining, because Rayla didn’t do that. She hadn’t even cried when she had cut her forehead open on the monkey bars in 2nd grade, and most of the other kids, definitely including himself, _had_ been crying, because there had been a lot of blood and they were all sure she was dying.

That was when they became friends though, even though she had called him a dummy when he had gone over to her to hold her hand, because it hadn’t seemed right for her to die alone, and he had told her so, and in hindsight, that was probably just slightly over-dramatic.

He reached out to take her hand again now, and pushed up her sleeve a bit. The skin around her wrist was chafed and raw where the cord had wrapped around it. Swelling too, he thought. She really _should_ have gone to the nurse’s office. Ethari had been a nurse before he got his jewelry business running, he knew, so at least he could have a look when he got here.

He didn’t ask if it hurt, because it definitely did, and she would definitely say no.

Anyway, that was what the popsicle was for, it was one of those that was in a plastic cover instead of on a stick. It _was_ melted a bit, and kinda… floppy… which was not nice if you were gonna eat it, but turned out to be pretty good for wrapping around Rayla’s wrist, which he did.

When he made to withdraw his hand, she stopped him, gripping it. He was… holding hands with a girl. That was… weird. Well, it was not really _a girl_ but _Rayla,_ and he really wasn’t sure that made it more or less weird.

He didn’t draw his hand back, though, but squeezed hers, because if _he_ had been scared when she had been dangling from that pole, she probably had been too. Her hands were really small, he noted, smaller than his, even though she was older and taller.

They sat without speaking for a while. Without moving, too. Her hand was warm under his. The cold condensation from the popsicle made it wet, so it was probably not noticeable that his palms were all sweaty.

“Where did you even get that?” Rayla broke his reverie. “I mean… thank you. It’s nice.” That meant it did hurt, if the ice helped.

“Opeli has a small fridge with an icebox.” He explained. “She has those for the kids that get sent to her upset because they were bullied or something.”

“You _stole_ from the principal’s office? _You?”_ Rayla eyes were wide and staring. They were a really pretty grey-blue, he thought. Like stormy skies. His cheeks felt warm. Rayla’s gaze flicked down. She looked embarrassed too, but blushed in a much prettier way than he ever had. She looked back up, bashfully adding. “For _me?”_

“Uh. Yes?” He rubbed the back of his neck. “It was no big deal, really, I knew where she kept them.” He had been to the principal’s office quite a few times when he was younger. Today was both the first time he had been there for misbehaving, and the first time he had been proud and not ashamed of the reason he was there. Grown-ups were really weird about things.

“Callum? Why did you know those popsicles were there?” Her eyes narrowed, as she looked at him. “Did someone make you upset enough that she would give you those? Because you just tell me who, and-”

“No!” Soren was in 9th grade and about twice Rayla’s size, but he _knew_ that wouldn’t deter her at all. And anyway, that wasn’t why. Usually. “I used to… _really_ not like to give presentations to the class. It’s pretty dumb, but it scared-” Honesty was important, his dad had said. And Rayla wouldn’t make fun of him for this. “- _scares_ me. I wish I was as brave as you.”

“What?!” She looked very offended. “You’re really brave! You were _always_ really brave! When we met? All the other kids were scared to come near me, but you did. That was really brave. I mean, it was pretty dumb that you thought I was dying, but it was brave of you to want to be there instead of standing back. And today too. Lots of people just stood there, watching. You didn’t.” The warmth in his cheeks were ran all the way through him, now. “You did okay though? When we did a presentation together last week?”

“Yeah, because _you_ were there-” Oh this was _definitely_ not a pretty blush. His cheeks were _burning._

But Rayla either didn’t notice or was kind enough to ignore it.

Callum scrambled through his backpack, he wasn’t sure what for, just that he couldn’t look at Rayla right now. Oh right, a distraction, that was what he was looking for. And he found it. Rayla’s shoes. He had never gotten around to giving them back to her, after she had unceremoniously shoved them at him so she could climb the flagpole.

He held them up now, presented like they were a gift, which was dumb, because they were already hers.

Yeah. This was the dumbest distraction in the history of ever, because how was holding her feet less embarrassing than holding her hand? He tied her shoelaces anyway, fumbling more than he should considering he had tied Ezran’s every morning for years.

“Thank you.” Rayla said. “For… everything. Saving me.”

“Well, I do owe you, there.” As long as he had known her, she had unfailingly stood up to people who teased him, completely uncaring about the consequences to herself. He had some idea what the last five years of school would have been like without her, because she had gone to Japan last year with Runaan and that had been pretty much the worst month of his life.

“What?! No, you don’t!” She looked almost offended.

“Yeah I do.” No point pretending he could do for her what she did for him. She wasn’t scared of anything, much, and unlike him, could definitely take care of herself.

Rayla looked down at her hands, fiddling with the corner of the plastic popsicle wrapper. “You remember back in 2nd grade? I was sad about my parents, and you drew my Sailor-Scout-ninja alter ego for me? Sailor Moonshadow? To cheer me up?”

“Yeah?”

She looked up at him, cheeks very red, but defiant. “Well, I still have that. I still look at it when I’m sad. So there.”

”What, really? I could draw you a way better one-” He had used the crappy school crayons, and-

“Dummy! No!” But she was laughing now. “I meant, you… make it better. All the time. For me. You don’t have to do the _same_ things I do for you. We’re not good at the same things, anyway.”

And that was a good thing, he realized.

They could learn things from each other.

They already had.

Rayla reached out her good hand, asking for comfort, because he taught her she could and he would give it and never laugh.

Callum took it, because she had taught him to do the things that scared him, because they might be really good.

And they were.

* * *

For this prompt, there's bonus content ;)

Here's the Sailor Rayla Callum drew when he was 7:

And here's a screenshot edit, a kinda epilogue of this story where they're canon/high school aged.

And here's a canon divergence AU comic. I drew the sketch for it prior to season 3, which is which it's AU now. I decided to finish it for AU day :) Like most others, I was expecting Rayllum to be more of a slowburn than it was, so this is a kind of epilogue get-together scene, where they have to attend some grand human party:

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed my foray into AU territory and the bonus content!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	12. Gift: Metaphors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla has a gift for Callum, banter and pastry metaphors ensue... just a regular day at the Spire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's been following this! I really appreciate all of you :)
> 
> Angst-levels should be back to a healthy balance now!
> 
> These prompts all take place in the [Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776) continuity started prior to the comics, which is why they're at the Spire after S3.
> 
> Chapter rating: G

7 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

Rayla weaved through the halls of the Storm Spire.

She hadn’t felt quite right selling what had been gifts to her from grateful citizens of Lux Aurea, but really, no-one needed _three_ fancy Sunfire clocks. And she needed money, so she could spoil her boyfriend like he deserved. And he would like this, she was sure.

She found him in their room. It was nearly full moon and she was bouncing with energy, even without the excitement of finding a really good gift. He was reading something, but… bah. It could wait.

She swept him into his arms before he had time to react. Looked at his adorable surprise-face, the wide green eyes. She leant forward to brush her nose against his. “Swoop.” She kissed him until they were both smiling too widely to continue. “You’ve been swept.” She said, grinning triumphantly at him, looking all debauched in her arms, rumbled hair and flushed cheeks. “Off your feet. Like a chump.”

He tightened his arms around her, and spoke into her neck, tender and fond. “Rayla, that happened a long time ago.” She felt the rumble of his voice against the sensitive skin below her ear. “I was already swept.” Oh what was he doing to her, now _she_ was blushing. “You can’t sweep what was already swept. Wait. I’m pretty sure you can. Yesterday, Ibis swept the kitchen after I already swept it, because he didn’t think I did a good enough sweeping-job, so-” He was cut off when she dumped him unceremoniously on the bed. “Sorry. Mood killer. No more talks about Ibis. Or the kind of sweeping involving brooms.”

She bounded onto the bed next to him, grinning brightly at him to let him know she wasn’t annoyed. She was used to the tangents. Broom-related sweeping was far from the worst. It was practically romantic, compared to yesterday’s dumpling-tangent.

“What was that for? Anyway?” He asked.

“For you. Duh.” She smushed her nose and lips into his cheek. “And I have something else for you, too. A gift.” She blushed a little bit. She had never given him a gift before. She knew he would like it, there was no reason to be nervous but- It was something new. A first time something.

She handed him the bundle, ignoring the little flutter.

He looked… happy, she thought, though he didn’t even know what it was.

He ran his hands over the metal casing as he opened the package. “Paint?”

“Yeah! Special paint. Earthblood make. It reacts with the paper to dry right away. You can mix the colors to your heart’s content on the palette, it won’t dry out at all. But on the paper it’s instant. So you can’t change anything, once it’s on the paper. You have to get it right the first time. Or paint over it, I suppose. It’s opaque. So you could do that, I guess-”

“Thank you! It’s amazing- Really.” He still looked a bit baffled, though. “What’s it for, though? It’s not my birthday?”

“What?! Human give _gifts_ on birthdays?”

“Yes? I thought you knew? That’s why I gave you one-”

“But I didn’t give _you_ one! Your birthday was three weeks ago, and I didn’t even know! I’m the worst girlfriend! I’m not even fit to be your moonberry surprise-”

“Rayla.” He held her face in his hands. Looked at her very seriously. “I actually prefer moonberry crumble.” His serious face crumbled, a doofy grin spreading on his face. Her self-recrimination crumbled too. Crumble all around. “I hope we can still make it work-”

She drew back from him, in mock-offense, dramatically raising the back of he hand to her forehead. “No! We’re done here! That’s a deal breaker! To think I sullied myself with such a heathen! I will never rise from the ashes of my shame and humiliation! I can’t even look at you right now! I’ll have to fling myself off a cliff to-”

Oops. That was _not_ funny to Callum. Not at all. Not yet. Maybe not ever. His eyes had darkened. Cheeks paled. Any trace of humor had left his face.

She put her arms around his neck, pressing close. Kissed his temple. Willed his head to be good to him. He was trying, she could tell, to reclaim the levity. She drew back slightly, to kiss his forehead. Then, very lightly, she bit the tip of his adorable nose.

He laughed, pure shock taking him out of his head like she had intended.

He smiled at her, wide and tender. “I hold to my preference for moonberry crumble, you know.” His thumb grazed lightly along the side of her face. “Less sweet.” His lips brushed softly against hers. “More tang.” The soft touch became a real kiss, passionate but short. “Crunchy nuts providing texture and bite-” He nipped at her neck.

She giggled, low and fond. “I think you might be overestimating the degree to which girls appreciate being compared to pastry-”

“Wait. Really? That’s… _not_ likely to be well received?” Oh no, he was serious. Doof. He was _actually_ worried about that?

She laughed. “You’re okay. My tastes defy logic and reason. And besides, I already like you, dummy.”

“Oh, I know.” He said _that_ , at least with casual confidence. Then his head caught up to his mouth. “Sorry. That wasn’t very romantic. Just got distracted.” His hands gestured ineffectually, because communicating the gravity of _this_ issue was kind of a lost cause. He was seriously overthinking this pastry thing. “Because of… Ezran. That would be the highest compliment he could bestow on someone! To compare them to pastry!”

“Ez will be okay too. He’s got you.”

“ _Me?_ Rayla, that’s not good enough.” Yeah, that would do it. She knew he worried about that, being a good enough brother, because the pressure was higher now, with King Harrow gone. It was not necessary. She didn’t understand how he could not see how good he was. How lucky Ezran was to have him. “You’d trust _me_ to guide Ez to not make a complete idiot of himself once he reaches his teenage years? You _remember_ how I was at when we met? A raging dumpster fire of awkwardness. You might think you saw the worst of it after you kissed me in the Oasis, but Rayla, that was the tip of the iceberg, the inside of my head was _so_ much worse! And you were asleep for some of it, really I cannot stress enough how much you didn’t see the full scope of the flailing mess I was! Back after Sol Regem, you fell asleep touching my hand and it set off a catastrophic internal chain reaction-”

She reached out to take his flailing hands in hers. Stroked her thumbs across his palms, his wrists. “Yes. It’s good enough.” He took a deep breath. Smiled, just a little. “You’re plenty good. For Ez _and_ me.”

He smiled, fully now. Drew very close, his forehead against hers.

“Sorry.” He said, genuinely. “I’m back. I get kinda… stuck sometimes. I’m trying to not do it, but… it’s like that paint. It’s there, the things that happened. My dad dying. Me worrying about Ez. You almost dying. Me worrying about you. You can’t really change the things that have happened. They’re there, underneath. You can paint over it, if you’ve got some quality opaque paint… like you. You make it so much better. Me so much better.”

“So comparing girls to art supplies is your new thing, now that the pastry metaphors are tapped out?” She said gently, painting over the heaviness with beautiful her.

The world already felt so much lighter. He smiled, widely and easily. “Rayla. Have you no faith in me? The pastry metaphors are not _tapped out!_ They’ve only just begun and their power will only grow from here! You haven’t seen _anything_ yet! They’re at the… waxing crescent stage!”

“Oooh…” She sidled up to him, her hand slipping up his bare leg. “Moon metaphors. Now you’re talking.”

“Yeah, you know. Waxing crescent, like…” A wicked grin spread on his face. “…croissant-shape-” He stopped talking, because her pillow hit him in the face, very rapidly followed by her lips halting any further pastry metaphors at this juncture. “You’re-” He gasped out, between kisses.

“If you say ‘like moonberry crumble’ or anything in that vein, you’re dead to me!”

“No.” He snuggled his face into her hair. Ironically, it smelled like moonberries, but he probably shouldn’t say that, because he had something to say too heavy for pastry vernacular. “You’re… the greatest gift.”

“Ew, you made it all gooey again.” But she was smiling, he could hear it in her voice, feel it against his neck.

“Gooey like… pie filling?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the pastry metaphor overload!


	13. Growth: Impressing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 3 important haircuts, at different points in time... very different feelings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has been reading, commenting and kudos'ing! It's awesome to see people are enjoying these :)
> 
> And 7 seasons of The Dragon Prince! Whooooooo! I wish this prompt was more celebratory, but it's pretty lowkey, lol.
> 
> The second snippet takes places during [Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776), shortly before chapter 4.7.
> 
> Chapter rating: G

5 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

“Your hair is getting all… floppy,” Rayla commented, lifting a lock of hair that was always getting in his eyes up, to demonstrate.

“Yeah, I got hair-cuts every two months, back at the castle, and I was overdue by the time we left, so… it’s been… 4 months now?”

“Maybe you can find a hair-dresser?” He supposed elves got their hair cut too. Ibis’ hair certainly always looked immaculate.

“Or you could just chop some of it off?” He suggested. “I mean, I would do it myself, but I can’t really see my own head. And I’d probably end up cutting my own ear off or something-”

“Yeah, you’re _not_ doing that! I like your cute, human ears!” He laughed, as her lips worried the rounded edge of his ear. “I’d do a really bad job though. With the hair. I’ve never done it before, Runaan always cut mine. You’d end up looking a right mess.”

“Would you still love me, if I looked like a mess?”

“Well, duh. You loved me when _I_ was a mess.”

“Then I don’t care.” Callum said, sure in this. If Rayla didn’t care that his hair was presentable, then he didn’t either. He had never been allowed to not look presentable in his life. A wide grin spread on his face at the thought that he could do that now. Every day! Roll out of bed, look like something the cat dragged in, which was a thing Opeli said when she had found his levels of grooming wanting. And still have the most amazing girl in the world love him.

Freedom was a thing you had to get used to, he thought.

For the first time in his life, he didn’t have to impress anyone. Rayla already liked him, and Ibis was already impressed with how he was doing, even if he was reticent about saying so.

“Okay,” Rayla shrugged, retrieving scissors from a drawer. Her mother’s, he recalled, Tiadrin’s knitting scissors.

Tiadrin knitted. Knitted _angrily_ , Rayla had say. Swearing all the while. Glaring at the yarn like she was daring it to defy her. Ethari had told her that though. Rayla hadn’t known her well enough to ever see that side of her. But she had a bit of her mother in her hands. More than a bit, inside her, he thought.

He flopped gracelessly back on the bed, reveling in that feeling. Looked up at her, brandishing the scissors that were about to make him look even less like a prince than he already did. He grinned, wide and happy. “Make me a mess.”

He was fifteen years old, and for the first time in his life, he didn’t have to impress anyone.

It was a good feeling.

* * *

  
  


18 months after the Battle of the Spire  
Coltein Hold, Katolis

The royal hairdresser, Mathilda, tutted as she examined Rayla’s handiwork, pulled the uneven strands up between her fingers.

Callum swallowed his retort to the unspoken criticism. It was ridiculous, to want to defend Rayla, when she readily admitted she was no good at cutting hair. But she had gotten better! And anyway, it was _her_ mess, and he would have rather kept it, with the rest of her so far away.

“Let’s just get it over with.” He said instead.

“Do try to contain your enthusiasm, Prince Callum.” Mathilda said, chuckling.

He laughed. Rayla had cut his hair for so long he had forgotten that he used to _like_ his haircuts because the hairdresser was fun and didn’t treat him and Ezran like princes. She had cut his hair for as long as he could remember. It was probably hard to maintain proper decorum in the face of a sulking teenager she remembered being 3 years old and wailing because he had peed on her chair. “Sorry, Mathilda.” He said. It’s nothing to do with you. I miss my girlfriend. It’s her choppy bits you’re about to fix.”

“Yes, your brother said you have a girlfriend. It’s odd for me to think about that, but princes grow, same as hair. It’s been a while since I’ve had at yours, I shouldn’t be surprised.”

“Rayla.” He said.

“My my, that was a lot of longing in one word, there.”

He chuckled, but without much mirth in it. “Sorry. Like I said. I miss her. She’s in Xadia, saving the world, and I’m here, supposed to impress the foreign nobles tomorrow. Without her. And her choppy bits.” He had held off getting this haircut, because he was _so_ soppy he liked being reminded of her when he looked in the mirror in the morning. And it would be a long time till he saw her for real.

Mathilda’s hand lingered just a little bit when she brushed a bit of hair from his shoulder. Her voice was soft as she spoke. “I could… leave a choppy bit. I’ll do your hair so it won’t show tonight, in front of the nobles. But you’ll know it’s there.”

He was sixteen years old, and he had to impress a bunch of people whose opinions he didn’t care about.

It was not a good feeling.

* * *

  
  


3 years after the Battle of the Spire  
Katol Keep, Katolis

“Prince Callum? What is with you today? I might cut your ear off, the way you’re fidgeting.”

“I just… want to look nice.” That was _embarrassing_ to admit, much as it was also freeing.

“Ah. You’re usually very…” Even the outspoken Mathilda elected to not finish that sentence.

“You can point out my historically tenuous relationship with personal grooming, Mathilda. I won’t have you court-martialed.”

“So why the jitters? It’s a normal day, no?”

“Not for me. I’m…” Mathilda didn’t share things her customers told her. She had customers who went to her primarily _because_ of that, she had said. They could speak freely, and she would listen. “I’m asking Rayla to marry me.”

“Oh my. I will… make sure you look your best then. But from what you’ve said, she is not the kind of girl to care overmuch if your hair looks perfect.”

“She doesn’t. It’s not that… so much.” He chewed on what he was saying. It was nice putting some of these undefined jitters into words. “I want her to know _I_ care.” He liked rolling out of bed and looking like a mess, and her still have her love him and look at him liking what she saw.

But he was growing up, they both were, and… he cared that she knew, he didn’t take it for granted, the way she looked at him. He thought about it… a _lot,_ how to propose. They were already intended, and she was definitely going to say yes because they had talked about that already but… he was not just asking her to be his wife, he was asking her to be Princess of Katolis. That was a lot to ask of _anyone_ , he felt, much less someone you loved. Someone who already put so much pressure on herself.

“I’m sure she knows that, Prince Callum. Your historical relationship with _caring_ is not tenuous. Not even to me. Certainly not to your girlfriend.”

He was seventeen years old, and he didn’t have to impress but he wanted to.

It was a feeling. A big one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed! Thought it was time for something a bit different, narrative-wise.


	14. Date Night: Your Ting, My Thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first full moon after the Battle of the Spire, Rayla takes Callum up to the pinnacle to show him her 'ting'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read, commented and kudos'ed! I really appreciate it! 
> 
> This is the full moon date Callum and Rayla planned in [Downtime in Wartime chapter 27](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774909/chapters/56516956) but which never happened because that date night was the night of the S3 end battle. So I figured they would postpone their plans for a month.
> 
> Chapter rating: mild T for suggestive content

1 month after the Battle of the Spire  
The Storm Spire, Xadia

Rayla could carry him on a regular day too, but not this… effortlessly. He snuggled into her neck and hair, as she bounded up the steps to the Pinnacle, as if she _wasn’t_ carrying snacks and blankets and her whole boyfriend. It was just a bit exhilarating.

And by ‘a bit’, he meant ‘a lot’.

He could feel it in her, the power of the full moon. See it reflected off her skin and hair. Her eyes, huge and luminous.

And she would show him tonight, that was part of their date itinerary. They would come up here, she would carry him up all those steps, she would show him the ‘ting’ and no-one would be reeling from something horrible. Their first attempt had failed rather spectacularly on that last part, but they were at least both alive to get another attempt at a full moon date.

And she already knew he loved her, so… less pressure? Maybe?

It _was_ still their first proper date, since the last month had been… hectic. And she was showing him the ‘ting’ for the first time.

It was the good kind of nervousness though, when she put him down, up on the platform. A sort of… anticipation. Bubbling inside him.

A month ago, when their original date was supposed to have been, he had been sobbing in her arms up here, but today… he was okay. They were both okay.

“Are you ready for the ting?” Raylas asked, looking somehow more nervous than he felt. He smiled at her, reassuring.

“I’m so ready for the ting!” He grinned. He reached out to stroke across her bare arm, just slightly tense, still. “You’re nervous?”

“I just… maybe I hyped it up? You won’t actually be able to see _anything_ much, that’s kinda the point.”

“Rayla. I’m pretty sure… your ting will be my thing. Because it’s yours.”

“Okay,” she said, smiling a little now, as she clapped his shoulder. “Get ready then.”

Knowing Rayla, he was expecting some flamboyant pose. Instead she looked down, just a bit bashful, still. And disappeared.

Well, no. She was _there._ The weight of her hand on his shoulder was still there. The warmth reflected off her skin, still there. Even her outline was still there, a flicker in the air. Her eyes, a faint lilac glow.

But he could see _though_ her, which was just… weird. Super weird. Went against the natural order of things, looking _past_ Rayla and not _at_ her, he thought. But it was difficult to actually look at her. Like it was tricking his mind.

That _was_ how illusions worked, affecting perception. He reached out, tentatively, to touch her. Followed the invisible outline from her shoulder, up her neck, to her face. Her cheeks were warm against his fingertips.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, fully sincere. She was. Even when he couldn’t see it. It was like a beautiful secret. No one could see her but him, because he was close to her and knew she was there. Beauty just for him.

“You can’t see me, dummy.” She said, fond and a bit exasperated.

“I don’t need to. I have a really good memory.”

“Well, you don’t know how I look like right _now.”_

“I have a good imagination too,” he said, undeterred.

“What if I was making a really scrunched up, ugly, grumpy face?”

“I like your grumpy face,” he laughed. “It’s cute.”

She sighed, exasperated. She probably did have a bit of the cute grumpy face now. “What’s even the point of being grumpy? If you’re just _immune_ to the grumpy-face?”

“I didn’t say _that._ I mean… it definitely has… an effect.” Her cheeks heated beneath his fingers. Beneath his lips when he leaned forward to press them against invisible skin. “I always liked your grumpy face. Even before I knew I was in love with you. I should have maybe picked up on that subtle clue.”

“Yeah, it’s a good thing I like my lovers tragically dense.”

“Hey!” Wait. _Lovers._ Plural? She had told him she had never kissed anyone before him, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t some tragically dense Moonshadow kid in her past. And it wasn’t like that thought _bothered_ him… much… but- He had thought too long about this he realized, because Rayla pulled away slightly, tensing under his hand at her upper arm.

“It’s a figure of speech, Callum. You _know_ how unpopular I was back home.” That was bitter. Unhappy. Because now he had reminded her that Ethari’s petition to un-banish her had been denied a few days ago. He stroked her brow, smoothing out the invisible frown.

“I’m sorry. I don’t understand how anyone could not love you.”

“Well, you’re biased.” But he felt her features shift beneath his fingertips, relaxing.

“Ez is on my side! I’ll ask him in the next letter I send! I’ll get it in writing, with the king’s official decree and seal and everything, how lovable you are!”

“You really don’t need to do that. I’m okay.”

But she wasn’t. That was the thing. She still thought he was biased when her told her she was beautiful or lovable or amazing, or that her grumpy face was cute. She didn’t _believe_ it. She believed _him._ That _he_ thought so. But not _it._ Not the sentiment itself.

He didn’t mind repeating those sentiments, though.

“You’re more. Than okay. You and your ting, are amazing.” He fumbled a bit at her invisible outline until he found her hand. Ran his fingers up the smooth, invisible skin, warmed by moonlight. “It’s… really cool-” He kinda lost his train of thought then, because she was _very_ close now, and it was _very_ distracting.

Invisible lips against his now. Invisible hands against his bare arms, fingers lightly grazing his neck, his jaw.

It definitely _was_ cool. Very. And… exciting. Not seeing from her expression or movements what she would do next.

But she _was_ telling him what she would do next. She was warning him, asking permission with her touches, light and tentative, tracing a path so he could stop her.

He tried kissing her cheek but hit her ear instead, or at least he thought so. A bit of exploration with his lips confirmed it, as he nuzzled lightly at the pointed tip. She sighed, and he felt her shiver where he held her, where she was pressed against him. Well. Happy accidents were a thing, right? “Rayla?” He spoke softly, into her ear. “You don’t have to do that… warn me, I mean. It’s kinda fun… not knowing what you’ll do.”

“Oh.” The surprise in her voice melted into something… daring. “I won’t, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> This was my favorite header image I did, but less sure about the actual story. But I hope you enjoyed :)


	15. Timeskip: Adult Feelings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Callum and Rayla have their first apartment, and it's giving Rayla adult feelings so she tries hand at some domestic maintenance

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone that's made it this far! 
> 
> Chapter rating: T for innuendo and suggestive content
> 
> There’s nothing explicit and they’re aged up, but this is pretty rife with very un-subtle verbal innuendo, just want to make that clear.

3 years after the Battle of the Spire  
Lux Aurea, Xadia

They had lived in lots of places. Nowhere that had really been _theirs._ This felt… well, it was still temporary, sure. But… it was an _apartment_. With a door they could lock. It was not an inn, or the spartan rooms at the Spire, or Callum’s childhood bedroom, or _her_ childhood bedroom.

They were not sneaking around. It was socially acceptable for them to share a room and a bed, here. They were both of age and intended. In Katolis that was still a bit iffy, because Callum was a prince, but here?

This was their home. Theirs.

Maybe it was the fact it had a kitchen? It was a weird feeling. They weren’t even _using_ the kitchen. But they had it. So it was an apartment and not a room.

She felt strangely responsible for their temporary home, too. Damn the useless kitchen giving her all these… adult feelings. The presence of that kitchen infecting her with feelings of responsibility was why she was currently upside down, hanging onto the exposed rafters.

Because the light in the kitchen they never used was broken, and it felt like _they_ should fix it? She didn’t know how. It might require a Sun arcanum, it was a magical light, after all. It definitely required some weird tool, because it was kinda… screwed into the ceiling.

She sighed. _She_ was screwed, wasn’t she.

Another few minutes of tentative prodding later, she actually managed to work out the weird screwing mechanism, and get the bulb-shaped light-up part of the light out. Progress? Maybe? She placed it on one of the rafters, considering her next move.

“Hey.” Callum greeted her, as he entered their apartment. “What’s up?”

“ _I’m_ up? Can’t you tell?” She grinned wryly at him, from her perch almost directly above him.

“Okay, that was horrible. You’re not allowed to make fun of my jokes anymore.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you don’t make the rules, or you’d be living a dull and humorless existence, devoid of my delightful quips and wit.”

“What are you… _up_ to? I mean.” He was grinning now. He had clearly come around to her viewpoint.

“No good?”

“Seriously? What are you doing?”

“Now? Something dumb. Trying to fix the light, despite my complete lack of necessary skills.” He looked a bit surprised she was giving him an actual answer so soon. Well, that could be amended. A wicked grin spread on her face. “Afterwards? Also something dumb. And look, there you are. My something dumb.” His cheeks got very red, at that. But regardless, he moved forward.

“I’m yours.” He looked up at her, cheeks still flushed, but he was not backing down. Smiling, tenderly and openly and defiantly in love. It might just be the hottest thing she’d ever seen. Even from this angle.

She hooked her foot around a rafter to swing down into his reach, just a bit precarious, but she would manage.

Even upside down he was beautiful. Especially as he drew closer. As his clever hands went under her loose shirt, the difference in angle somehow enhancing the feeling. As his tongue probed gently at the tip of her ear… at her parted lips-

He knew just how to make her legs all wobbly. Which was, in retrospect, not great when you were hanging from the ceiling, said legs being all that stood between you and the hard, stone floor.

Callum lurched forward as her grip gave out, but she was not with him for his reflexes and coordination, and he was too late. She flipped over herself in a smooth motion, but her hands hit the stone floor not quite measured, sending painful spikes up her left arm. Stupid binding! Stupid wrist! Stupid _her,_ for getting so distracted-

“Are you okay?” Callum rushed to her, taking her left wrist in both hands. Stupid her, for being so off guard she had evidently let pain show, even when it barely hurt. Even when her intended was notoriously fussy.

“Of course.” She pulled her hand out of his.

“Just- you’ve sprained it four times in three years.”

“Yeah. Breaking out of Viren ice spell. Sparring with your aunt. Other epic and death-defying endeavors. Not fixing a light!” What did he take her for?

“I’m so sorry. You could have gotten hurt, you could have broken your neck-”

“I’m responsible for my own dumb choices, Callum.” She said sternly.

“I know.”

“You _say_ that. But you don’t live it.” She put her hands back in his, and looked at him, a slow grin spreading on her face. She had been grumpy, true, but _his_ reaction… was deeper than that. “Take a step back, will you. And take another look at the situation. You used your tongue so well I fell down from the ceiling. Now: what is that?”

He looked blank for a moment, then snorted with laughter. “Yeah, that’s actually… pretty funny, isn’t it?”

She nodded, smiling. “And…?”

He was smiling too now, the little bit of triumph she had hoped for, shining in his eyes. “Cause for pride?”

“There you go.” She ran her hand up his chest, but then set her jaw. Because there was another matter that had to be settled so there was no doubt to infect his thoughts. “So we agree that was on me.” She poked his chest sternly. “And that means you’re not sorry. Good. Because I’m not sorry either.” She smiled, tracing the poking finger upwards, flicking his chin. “Sometimes you see something dumb, and you _know_ it’s dumb, but you just gotta own the dumb thing…” Her finger traced his lips. “-you just gotta _do_ the dumb thi-”

She was pulled quite firmly into him.

He could be assertive, when he put his mind to it.

He could be creative too, she thought, as he lifted her onto the table right behind her. Finding a use for that useless kitchen.

“Sometimes- you’re… completely infuriating-” He gasped out, in-between kisses.

“I can be straightforward with you,” she said, failing utterly at looking serious. “Let’s screw-” She drew close, grabbing his tunic in her hand. Nipped at his lips lightly. “-in that light.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed the less subtle than normal-Numpty innuendo barrage :D
> 
> Just one more to go after this!


	16. Rayla's Birthday: To Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rayla's 17th birthday is nearing its end, people are getting sleepy...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one! Thank you so much, all of you! I really appreciate all the support and kindness throughout this event!
> 
> This takes place later in the same day as the ‘Rayla 17’ snippet from the [prologue of Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776)
> 
> Chapter rating: G

  


1 year and 6 weeks after the Battle of the Spire  
Katol Keep, Katolis

It was dark outside.

The cake was gone.

No one had spoken for a while.

Rayla’s birthday was probably over, all things considered.

She was leaning heavily against his chest. He had been half-way propping her up for a while now. It was not ideal to have to spend your birthday recently stabbed, tired and achy, but the world never seemed to be as good to her as he thought it ought to be.

Her breaths were slow against his shoulder.

Even Ezran, always reluctant to end a party, got up, pointing at Rayla and signed the sign for sleep at him.

“’Night Ez,” she muttered. Clearly not quite gone yet, then.

“Goodnight, Rayla.” Ezran leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I’m really sorry some mean guy stabbed you, and you were hurt on your birthday. And that I ate so much of your cake. And… a lot more than that.” 

Oh Ez. He was definitely still very upset about that whole, horrible assassination attempt on the dance floor deal. Callum was definitely also still upset. Rayla had been covered in blood, trembling in his arms… well it was _actually_ a few days ago now, he supposed, but that was not long enough for the terror to leave. He didn’t want to be upset on her birthday though, that just didn’t seem right.

“’s ‘kay.” Rayla’s eyes opened to look at Ezran, sleepy but serious. “Ez… I love you. You know that, right?”

Callum almost stopped Ezran, as he lurched forward to hug her, but remembered what Rayla had said earlier, about him barely daring to touch her. And Ez was careful all on his own as he put his arms around her. “Yeah. I know. You show me all the time. You know too, right? That I love you?”

Her eyes had fluttered shut again, but she was smiling. “Yeah…”

Ezran left, leaving them on the couch by the window.

Well, bedtime, he supposed.

He didn’t like the lack of even token complaint or resistance when he lifted Rayla into his arms. He _definitely_ didn’t like that little muffled whimper when he jostled her as he stood up.

But he liked her trusting head against his shoulder. The tiny smile on her lips. The pleased sigh as she snuggled into his neck.

He settled her carefully against the fluffy pillows, noting that she was already dozing off as he was removing her shoes. He lifted up her shirt to check the bandages. Not bled through. Touched the skin at her ribcage, her forehead and cheeks. Normal-warm. So hopefully she was just tired, then. 

“m’fine. Jus’ sleepy.” She mumbled.

“Yeah, I’m just making sure.”

He laid down next to her, as he returned from the bathroom.

He watched her for a while, her slow breaths. Asleep already. So he could say out loud what he had not for days. Or he could whisper it anyway, so she wouldn’t wake. Get it out of his dumb head, where it seemed to take up so much room. “I was so scared. So I’m sorry I’m being so fussy. I know you don’t like it. But I was so scared. I still am. Every time you wince or falter, I’m afraid again.”

“Hey. Why wouldn’t you say that to me?” Oh no. He had _not_ wanted to worry her, and now she definitely was, he could tell.

“They were my worries. You needed rest. _Need_ rest. And it’s your birthday-”

“You’re mine. So your worries are too.” She reached out her arm carefully, and he sidled closer, nestling his head against her chest, her heartbeat. Steady and strong. She carefully settled her arm around him, her hand curling around his head, her fingers in his hair. “You can tell me.” The gentle touch against his forehead and temple seemed to undo him, days of tension and worry and fear releasing in a very wet hiccup against her chest. “Love, it’s okay.” She kissed his forehead, rested her face against his hair.

“I’m really sorry. It’s your birthday, and you’re already not getting the birthday you want or deserve, and now I’m just blubbering-”

“It’s okay. I was blubbering on you earlier, for far worse reasons.”

So he let himself feel it, for a few minutes. It was easier… better… already. His head always did better with company, especially hers.

He wiped his face, after a little while. He was done, he thought?

It was her _birthday._ The last little bit of it, even. And this was the second not-quite-happy birthday she had had in a row. And she deserved better. “I’m done blubbering,” he said. “You can go to sleep. I really will be okay. And we can celebrate your birthday the way you want to, when you’re better. Just a bit delayed?”

But Rayla shook her head. “I liked _this_ birthday. It’s the best I’ve ever had.”

“Even with being tired and in pain all day, and me blubbering on you, and you blubbering on me, and-”

“Yes.” Rayla didn’t lie to him. She was terrible at it, anyway, she hadn’t even been convincing to him three days after they met. That almost made it worse, though.

“You didn’t… have happy birthdays, growing up?”

“Oh. Yeah. I mean, they were… fine. But also. Not. My parents always sent me a letter on my birthday. And I’d write them back. And it made me happy to get those letters, but… I cried myself to sleep, so many birthdays.”

“You missed them?”

“I missed… something. It was too complicated, I think, for me to understand at the time. The older I got, the less I cried, but the more I understood _why_ I had been crying. It wasn’t that I missed them. I did, but… I was so young when they left, after a few years I could barely remember the place they used to have, for me. What life was like when they were there. I cried because… I wasn’t sure about them. About who I was to them. If that birthday letter was just another duty-”

He cradled her lightly against him. She wasn’t crying… _exactly_ , but breathing hard, shaky breaths, dry half-sobs that rattled her torso and probably pulled at the stitches, because he was pretty sure at least a few of the horrible whimpering sounds were caused by physical pain.

He stroked his hand through her hair around her horns, a calming kind of ritual, reserved for family. “For me… and for Ez… it’s love,” he muttered against her hair.

“I know. That’s why it was a good birthday.” She was calmer now, settling against his shoulder as he sat up slightly to lean against the headboard. “I was sure. I got a letter from Ethari. And from Zym. And I was sure about those, too. And the chocolate was really good. You really do deserve an award for just sitting there looking at it for hours without eating any. And I liked the book you got me. And you reading it to me. It was soothing.”

“Soothing?! Rayla, that book was about a deranged serial killer scalping people!”

She just snuggled further into his shoulder. Her breaths slowed. He thought she might have dozed off again, when she spoke, half-slurred. “‘Is soothin’… ‘cause it’s you.” She regarded him, dazed and half-lidded. Sort of… questioning?

“Rayla, you want me to read you more of that book, don’t you? As a goodnight story?”

“Mmmhmm.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed reading these, I definitely enjoyed writing them!
> 
> If you’re craving more of this type of story, [Downtime in Wartime](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774909/chapters/54421612) has 31 chapters one-shots similar to this story, taking place between the canon episodes.  
> And if you want more birthday stuff, the [prologue of Down to Earth](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23689948/chapters/56876776) covers 12 birthdays taking place during the S3-S4 timeskip, including the rest of Rayla’s 17th from this chapter, and it can be read as a standalone chapter.  
> Both stories have chapter illustrations, like this one, I do that for most of my stories.
> 
> A big thanks to Raayllum over on tumblr for organizing this event! I’ve been super happy to participate 😊


End file.
